HeartTorn (The Renascentia Trilogy: Book Two)
by Warrior-Maid-of-the-Shadows
Summary: It is known throughout the Realms that the Vanir cannot lie. But just because Freyja and her people can say nothing but the truth doesn't mean secrets cannot be kept. When Freyja finally decides how her life will play out, the walls of her world come tumbling down as she realizes one universal truth: everything comes at a price. And what she wants may cost her dearly.
1. Prologue: Selenda

_**Hey guys! If you've read HeartBound and you're reading this to hear the rest of the story, I can't thank you enough. I've finally finished editing HeartBound so I've decided to post this. For you new readers, I do suggest reading HeartBound just to get the basic idea of the story and the characters. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy.**_

_**PS: Like HeartBound, I like to listen to movie scores when I write the plot. I'd like to think John Murphy's "Surface of the Sun" is the theme for this book. Check it out if it interests you.**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Thor or Marvel.**_

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"How is she?"

Eira looked up from the loom by the fire to see her mother, Ysmay, at the door. Her mother looked the same as always, with frost-white hair, fair skin and dye-stained hands from her work at the tailor's. Although Eira longed for the day she would come of age and go to work for the tailor as well, she knew she must stay at home for the time being and watch over her cousin.

"She's as well as ever," the eight-year-old sighed.

Worry filled her mother's brown eyes, "Have the tinctures not healed her?"

"No. The healer said nothing is working. He doesn't know what to do."

She followed her mother into the separate room where the baby slept in her little wooden crib. The child looked nothing like Eira or her mother or even her aunt, but there were small signs that the half-child was part of their family.

The baby was slightly larger than most elven babes, but she was also a good deal thinner, too. What marked the child as something other than elf was her strange black-blue skin and angular features. She did, however, have pointed ears, silvery-white hair and brown eyes that were distinctly elven traits. But it was her eyes that truly marked her for who she was. Brown eyes were common, but a golden ring around each pupil was unheard of. It was the mark of a single family: the royal family of Vanaheim.

Eira remembered the baby's father very well, as he had given her unusual gifts and told her stories she had never heard of. He was a handsome man, but he had looked just like an elf. It was only when the child was born, long after the father had left, that Eira and her mother found out he had been a Vanir. Eira's aunt had never found out the truth, she had died during the birth.

They looked at the sleeping child, marveling at her alarming yet enchanting appearance. The baby had never once cried, never so much as opened her mouth, but always stared out with far too intelligent eyes.

"How long did the healer say she had?" her mother asked, brushing a hand over the baby's sharp cheek.

"A little over a fortnight. Mama, why is she dying?"

"I don't know, Eira. If I-"

They both turned as the sound of faint knocking echoed through the otherwise silent cottage. It was uncommon for visitors to arrive after sunset, but not completely unheard of.

"Perhaps it is the healer," Ysmay muttered. "Let him in, will you, sweetheart."

Eira nodded, walking quickly to the thick wooden door. When she had opened it, she stared at the vaguely familiar man who stood before her.

He was tall and lean like the sailor's she saw her father talking with during the trade season, and his face was indeed weather-beaten. But he was strangely unsightly to the eye, with a lined face that looked as if it had once been handsome. Silvery-blue eyes ringed with gold around the pupils stared out at her in apathy.

"Eira, child," he said in the strange accent that was familiar. "Where is your mother?"

"Alrek?" she asked, not sure whether this man was the same handsome gentleman her aunt had loved.

"Yes, now where is your mother?"

"Let me get her," Eira whispered, wondering why Alrek had changed his shape to such an unattractive face.

As she walked back to the room where her mother and cousin were, Alrek sat down in a chair by the fire. When she entered the room, her mother turned to face her with a smile.

"Sweetheart, what is it?"

"It's not the healer."

"Then who-"

"It's Alrek."

Her mother stiffened, her oval face paling.

"Stay here, Eira, and watch Selenda. Whatever happens, stay here."

She nodded, frightened by her mother's sudden change in mood. Her mother walked out of the room to speak with Alrek, locking the door behind her. Eira knew her mother did not like Alrek, although she had once. She was angry at Alrek for leaving. But Aunt Astrid had explained to Eira that she had known Alrek would leave but she was happy she would have a part of him. Eira didn't understand what her aunt meant exactly, but she guessed it meant that she was happy to have a baby.

Too curious to sit idly while her mother and Alrek discussed something, Eira pressed her ear to the door and listened intently.

"-why you've returned," she heard her mother say. "And I'm afraid I'll have to send you away empty-handed."

"Ysmay, she's my daughter, not yours. I have every right-"

"You forfeited your right to her when you left Astrid for your home! Have you no shame? I know who you are, 'Alrek'. I know about your other family in Vanaheim. Leave Selenda here and no one will know of your mistake."

"I understand your loss, but my daughter is not Astrid and will never be Astrid. She is a Halfling, and must be destroyed."

"She is an innocent child, not a beast! You cannot kill her. I won't allow it!"

"The Norns have told me of her, and I will not allow such a tragedy to strike the Realms. You will give her to me or I will be forced to take her."

"You think because you are king that you can have anything that tickles your fancy. But you are not my king, and you cannot have Selenda."

"Then you leave me no choice," he said quietly.

Eira couldn't make sense of what Alrek said next, but she could feel the tell-tale crackle of magic in the air. Something hit the ground hard, sending the girl scrambling for the knife her father had given her.

The door clicked as the lock was retracted, swinging open to reveal Alrek. White smoke trailed from his fingertips, causing Eira to back away in fear.

"Eira, put down the knife," he said gently.

"No."

He flicked his wrist, causing coils of the white smoke to rush towards her. She shrieked as they curled around her limbs, filling her with weariness as they engulfed her. Within seconds, everything went dark.

When Eira woke up, she could just make out the shadow of her mother crying over an upside-down wooden crib.

"Mama," she said shakily. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"He took her," she sobbed. "He's taken Selenda."

* * *

Njord stood on the cliffside above the raging waves of the ocean, holding a baby carefully in his arms. The Norns had told him many things about this child, all of them worrisome. If her impending future was not enough, her nature was unlawful. She should not exist, and she was his mistake to right.

He had not even known the child existed until his face had changed a week before, just as the Norns had promised. He had watched the young, handsome face melt away to reveal a revolting face that barely resembled his own. It was then that he realized the Norns had been speaking of an illegitimate daughter and he had gone in search of Astrid.

But the people of her village had told him she had passed, leaving her sister with a sickly child to tend to. It had taken a week to track down Ysmay, a week spent away from his wife who was to bear him a child by morning.

He could not allow anyone to know of this child, only a few elves had known and he had left only Ysmay and Eira with memories of the baby. No one would believe them if they spoke of a halfling child.

And so he would toss her into the ocean, his home and source, with a prayer to the Wise One that she died swiftly in the cold embrace of the waves. He had no qualms with killing the child, as she would grow into a monster of great power. She would become the strongest and most powerful creature in the Nine Realms, with the ability to destroy the Realms or save them.

Just as he was about to toss the baby into the sea, she opened her eyes and stared at him with large, doe-brown eyes. The awareness and knowledge in the innocent brown eyes startled him, causing him to pause in his actions.

That was when he saw them. He saw the images of a beautiful young girl this baby would become. He saw how loving she was, and how accepting. She was poised and charming and everything he could have ever hoped from a daughter. Unable to shake the images away, he cradled the child closer to his chest.

"They called you Selenda," he mused. "And I suppose it was a suiting name for an elven maid. But not a name for where we are going."

He looked out to the sea where a storm was brewing in the distance and back to the perceptive eyes of the girl.

"Freyja," he said with a smile. "You will be Freyja, for you were born to be a maid but will become a proper lady."


	2. Chapter 1: Return

**_Just a quick Author's Note: This story actually starts before the Freyja-Loki romance and shows how they came to be lovers. Just wanted you to know that. I hope you all enjoy._**

**_Song of the Chapter: Drops of Jupiter ~ Train_**

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"Why do you go away? So that you can come back? So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors? And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving."

-Terry Pratchett

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Impact, the one word that could easily sum up the consequences, be they good or harmful, of any choice. Life is a series of choices and how they impact the being, as Freyja was taught by the Scholars of the Academy. The Academy had taught her many useful things, but never the one lesson she needed most: what choices to make. On the other hand, her father practically dictated the answer to that question.

She had decided, from a very young age, to strive for the choices that would affect others positively rather than herself. But to say that all of her choices disregarded her would be a lie. One large choice that had made the greatest of impacts on her life thus far was her decision to spend six years living in Asgard. This choice had led her to become the Vanir ambassador of Asgard. It was strange that she found more happiness in the home of the Æsir rather than in that of her own people, but she chalked such a notion up to one detail: emotions.

She found the strict, empty life of Vanaheim to be dull, much too dull for the setting in which it took place. In a world of rich colors and attributes that flooded the senses, the style of the people was dismal in comparison. And where Asgard was gloomy in comparison to the warmth of her own home, life was much more radiant and dazzling. The Æsir were driven by their emotion to such an extent that it overflowed into every aspect of their lives, and this was what Freyja loved the most.

For six years, she had visited a handful of the Nine Realms to learn about each race, as was the tradition of her people. Despite her cool and collected demeanor during such travels, she had been eager for her return to Vanaheim where she knew she would state her whim to become the Asgardian ambassador. And now she was on a ship back to Asgard, slowly closing the distance between her and her first true friend.

She bit her lip to keep from asking once more if they had arrived. Although it was faster to travel by Bifrost, the procedure always left any Vanir who traveled by it with a severe case of nausea that lasted for days. This was due to the amount of auric energy stored within the rainbow bridge, placed inside the large slab of diamond by millions of Vanir, hence why it shimmered with various hues of color. As she hadn't wanted to spoil her return to her home away from home, she had opted for the longer journey.

The only downside to this was that it gave her that much longer to wonder about what might have changed in her absence. Would any of her friends be as she remembered them?

"Freyja. Freyja, are you in there?"

"Leave her alone, will you?" another voice chuckled. "She's in the midst of deep thought."

Freyja opened her eyes to see her brother and Animi, both in Asgardian form, arguing good-naturedly. Animi favored a tall, lean form with wind-swept cinnamon hair and soft features whereas her brother preferred a slightly thicker build with strawberry blonde curls so that he may somewhat resemble her. Both had their hereditary silvery-blue eye, the one feature the Vanir could not change, but Freyr's had a single ring of gold around the pupils.

Animi smiled at her, "I'm sorry to disturb your thoughts but we are simply a few minutes from Asgard."

She returned his smile and stretched in her seat. Silver coils of auric energy wrapped around her as she transformed from a dark-skinned, dark-haired Vanir to a red-haired, pale-skinned Asgardian. Neither of the men so much as blinked at the change.

"I understand your reasoning," she sighed. "Precisely how long will it be until we reach the hold?"

"Exactly three minutes," her brother answered.

She nodded, knowing that once the ship reached the hold, it would only be a matter of seconds before they arrived in Asgard. She longed for the time to go faster, as her patience was beginning to wear thin.

Animi placed his hand over hers, stopping it from moving, as Freyr got up to speak with the pilot. She hadn't even realized she'd been drumming her fingers against the arm of the chair. She raised her eyes to meet his.

"I've never seen you this anxious, Freyja."

She sighed, "It has been a long time. I just worry how much has changed since then."

He smiled softly, "I know Prince Thor will not have changed."

She laughed, a sound similar to the pealing of wind chimes, "No, I doubt he has changed any. It's his brother that concerns me."

"I'm sure Loki is the same as always."

"I hope you are right…"

Freyja and Animi stood up as they felt the ship land in the docks. They walked over to where her brother stood by the doors. She let the boys walk out of the ship at the docks first, somewhat cautious and afraid of what awaited her. She took a deep breath and descended the stairs.

The sunlight was brilliant after the dim light of the ship. She had to blink and wait for her eyes to adjust to the light. A crowd had gathered to greet her and her brother. She scanned the figure in search of the one person she wanted to see most.

Her eyes finally fell upon the man she barely recognized as the boy she knew. Loki had grown a lot taller in the years that had passed, but his bright green eyes, short-cropped dark hair, and playful smile had stayed the same. She noted the lean muscles that now spanned the length of his body, wondering when he became interested in something he had ignored when she knew him.

She smiled in return as she walked slightly faster than before, feeling his joy at her return. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see her brother talking with the warrior maid, Sif. As she reached Loki, he took her right hand to his face and barely brushed his lips over it.

"Princess Freyja, it is a delight to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine, Prince Loki."

From behind Loki, a voice called, "Stop your trifling, Loki, and let me see how time has affected her."

She looked over his shoulder to see his brother, Thor. Time had affected him greatly. While Loki was long and thin with wiry muscles, Thor was slightly taller than Loki, thicker-set and as muscular as an ox.

"Prince Thor," she sighed, pulling her hand from Loki's. "Obnoxious as always, I see."

He bowed and took her hand, kissing it roughly, "I prefer to think of it as pride."

"Which is Thor's way of saying arrogance," Loki grinned.

Freyja chuckled as Thor turned to his brother, "Very amusing. I'll leave you two to your prattling."

With that, he left to speak with Freyr, who she knew would be able to entertain him better than she had. Loki shook his head and turned to face her.

"If you wish, I could give you a tour of Asgard," he said softly. "Much has changed in your absence."

He offered her his arm and she took it after sparing Animi a glance, "I would be honored."

Both made their way through the crowd who parted for the prince and princess. Freyja took in her surroundings, comparing them to the Asgard of her memories. Loki had been correct, much had changed.

"Tell me," he said suddenly, "Who was that man who walked out after your brother? He certainly doesn't look familiar."

"His name is Animi, and you have never seen him because this is his first time in Asgard. He's a close friend of mine and has decided to return with me."

"What have you been up to of late?"

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to write recently. I've been far too busy between preparing for my becoming ambassador to gaining my mastery of magic."

He smiled, "That's three new rings for you to bear, if memory serves. May I see them?"

She raised her right hand to show the two newest rings she had recently gained. One, the one on her middle finger, was made of platinum and had a dragon engraved on its surface and the other, which she wore on her index finger, was made of copper and had smoke curls engraved into it.

"Master of magic and ambassador of Asgard, but where is your title ring?" he asked, letting go of her right hand.

She gave him her left hand to show the silver ring with a graceful hawk in mid-flight etched onto it.

He squinted at it, "Allow me to guess, will you?"

She laughed, "Of course."

"Hmm…Goddess of Elegance? Refinement? Poise? Charm?"

"Close," she said, grinning.

He bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, "Allure? Desire?"

"Beauty and Love."

"Damn, I was so close," he sighed in mock irritation.

"Am I allowed to guess yours?"

"The possibilities of my title are not as wide in range."

"I am not all you guessed."

He snorted, "If you believe that…"

"Are you God of…Jests? Illusion? Mysteries? What about persuasion?"

"God of Mischief and Lies," he laughed.

"Of course you are," she said, shaking her head. "At least you know of your subjects. I haven't the slightest idea what it is to love someone outside of my family."

"That is a half-truth and you know it. The reason you were chosen for such is because you express love towards everyone, you allow everyone a place in your heart. It is your nature. The opposite is equally true."

"But should the goddess of love truly be a woman who has never been in love?"

"It is not that they believe you have been in love. Do you truly not know?"

She turned to face him fully, "What is it that I am supposed to know?"

He looked fairly surprised to the point of disbelief, "Surely you know the rumors."

"Rumors?"

"The rumors that you are the most beautiful woman in all the Nine Realms and all who lay their eyes upon you either fall deeply in love or become mad with envy."

She was silent for a second, making Loki wonder what she was thinking, before bursting into laughter. Loki watched her in confusion as she tried desperately to stop laughing.

"Loki," she sighed. "I have never heard something so utterly ridiculous."

"Do you not think yourself as beautiful?" he asked in astonishment.

"I acknowledge that I am…striking in some manner, but I am not as beautiful as that."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? The proof is in the number of admirers you have. How many men have asked for your hand in marriage?"

She grimaced, "Too many for my taste. And the worst is that my father approves of many of them."

He raised his eyebrows, "Surely your father does not approve of every suitor."

She thought about that for a moment, "Only the Asgardians and Vanir. I don't know what to do. Animi and I have made a deal that if I find no man to give my heart, we will marry simply out of practicality."

"You would marry a man you do not love?"

"I love Animi, but it is the same love I have for you. Besides, I would rather marry a man whom I can think of as my friend rather than my entrapment. He would never ask anything of me, and I would never ask anything of him."

"Isn't that a little saddening? To be forced to marry a man you do not properly love simply because your father requires it?"

"The alternative is to be shackled to a man I have no emotion for at all."

"What will you do when he asks for children?"

"He won't."

"And of your wifely duties?"

"He won't ask for that, either," she said with a small laugh.

"Is there something I'm not seeing?"

"He won't ask me to share his bed," she said in a scandalous tone, "because he does not favor women."

"What?"

"That's the beauty of the whole arrangement. He favors men. That is why we made the agreement. He would never ask that of me because he does not find women attractive in that way."

He shook his head while he laughed, "So you would spend eternity married to a man who secretly favors men to escape marriage to a man you do not love?"

"Exactly."

"You are a very strange woman, Freyja."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

He was silent for a few minutes, then got an idea, "Would you like to see Warrior's Square?"

Her eyes lit up with delight, "Of course."

He led her through the streets and past the people who milled through the buildings and shops. As they walked, the buildings changed from simple and angular to large and ornate, from practicality to decoration.

Warrior's Square was a large, circular courtyard surrounded by shops of elaborate clothing, lavishly decorated food, and a famous winery and alehouse. A large, opulent fountain of gold and copper sat in the center. Crystal streams of water spouted from the horns being played by the miniature busts of elves.

Freyja gasped at the sight of the lamplights sparkling across the water in the light of the setting sun. Loki watched as she walked in circles, taking in everything she could. He enjoyed watching her response when she came across something beautiful. For a reason he could not guess, she treasured things she found stunning or even charming and would do anything to make sure it was not sullied.

She sat down on the edge of the fountain and ran her thin fingers across the surface of the water, never breaking through. He sat down next to her and touched the water, green tendrils trailing from the palm of his hand to the liquid. White frost spread across it where the smoke reached. The green coils dissipated as the ice covered the entire surface.

Freyja looked impressed, "I see you have been practicing." –She barely tapped the frost- "I've never seen an Asgardian wield magic with such tenderness and control. Who continued your studies?"

"A Vanir by the name of Lennart. But I spent the majority of my practices alone."

"And your astral projections?"

He frowned, "Lennart has yet to teach me that."

"I suppose it makes sense for him to not have taught you yet, it is a difficult lesson."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a call interrupted him.

"Prince Loki!" a guard yelled, running up to the two.

"Yes, Radhulf?" Loki sighed.

"Lord Prince, Lady Princess, I would not interrupt you if the matter was not of importance. Your father, the King, wishes to speak with both you and your brother."

"About what?"

"He did not say, Lord Prince."

Loki sighed once more before turning towards Freyja, "I know it is rude of me to leave you so suddenly when you have just returned, but will you be alright if I go?"

"Of course. There is someone in the palace that I shall visit while you speak with Odin."

He gave her a final doubtful look, but stood up anyways, "Alright, to the palace it is."

She stood up and walked beside him.

"Who is this someone you wish to see?" he asked suspiciously.

"Ottar still works in the kitchens, does he not?"

He laughed, "Yes, as it happens. He has been up to his ears in work since your return was announced."

She shook her head with a smile, "He always did try to make everything perfect for me…"

"He fancies you."

"He does not."

"Do you not see how he looks at you."

"Loki, I know when someone is in love. And although he is not in love with me, he does love someone who is almost always in my presence."

"Who?"

"He fancies my chambermaid."

Loki raised his eyebrows, "Aileth? You jest."

"I do not! Tell me what exactly you do not find attractive about her. She is kind, beautiful, and spirited. Why should he not fancy her?"

He shrugged, "I suppose you have a point. My baker and your chambermaid…"

"She told me she thinks him handsome and sweet."

"You haven't been hinting at the match, have you?"

"The patron goddess of love acting as a matchmaker? Whatever gave you such an absurd notion?"

"Alright, I see your point," he grinned as they walked through the gilded doors of the palace. "I trust you remember where your chambers are."

"You think me forgetful?"

"Of course not. I'll either meet you in the kitchens or at your door when I have finished. I have a surprise."

"What sort of surprise?" she asked as he walked off.

"One you will enjoy," he called back.

She stifled a laugh at his empty answer, wondering what he could possibly have in store. Knowing Loki, it could be anything. One thing she enjoyed about him was the unpredictability of his gestures. Not wanting to linger on the thoughts too long and waste her time, she turned down the right hall to the kitchens.

The kitchens were always one of Freyja's favorite parts of the palace. They were comprised of several connected rooms full of ovens and pantries. People were always bustling through the place in attempt to cook the next meal for the royal family. She enjoyed the sights, sounds, and smells that greeted her. It was the perfect place to escape.

She walked into the first room, apparently for cooking meats, and was immediately greeted by several of the cooks. She prided herself on being on a first-name basis with most of the people who worked in the palace. It was important to her to treat everyone, even the servants, as if they were her friends. Many of them were, anyway.

"Welcome back, Lady Princess," a few stopped to say as she walked by.

She nodded her head slightly at the people who greeted her, a gesture which was a sign of respect in Vanaheim. It was very seldom that the Vanir bowed to anyone besides their monarch. When, or more often 'if', a Vanir bowed to another being, the gesture was taken as the highest honor. The Nine Realms knew of the Vanir's pride, and respected the race that often kept peace between the people.

It wasn't long until she recognized the head of blonde curls leaning over a large mixing bowl. She smiled as Ottar hummed a tune she did not recognize, taking in the differences. He was younger than her by a year, and just slightly thinner than most Asgardians, and yet he was just as tall as Thor.

"Loki tells me you've been quite busy of late," she said, causing him to jump. "Please tell me you've not been overexerting yourself just for me."

He spun around, slate-gray eyes sparkling as a smile lit up his face, "Not just for you. You are aware of the fact that you're not the only one of royal blood in this castle, are you not?"

She laughed at his teasing tone, embracing him despite the fact that she would get flour on her silk dress, "It is good to see you again."

He let go and backed away slightly, "I have something to show you."

"It seems everyone has something to show me."

She waited patiently as he dug through the uncountable trays of cookies, cakes and pastries of all sorts. Finally, he picked out a small white box and pulled a star-shaped cookie from it.

"Taste it," he implored, handing it to her. "It's a new recipe, courtesy of Loki."

She narrowed her eyes slightly.

"I already checked," he laughed. "There's nothing wrong with it."

She put it to her lips and hesitantly took a bite. A familiar flavor filled her mouth, far too rich to be an Asgardian ingredient. It mingled the more muted flavors of Asgardian spices, but Freyja could immediately name the taste.

"It's sundrop fruit, is it not?"

"I knew you would recognize it. Do you like it? I've made an entire batch for the ball."

"It's delicious, but sundrop can only be harvested within two days before it sours. The cost is particularly high, seeing as it only grows successfully in Vanaheim. How did you manage to obtain them?"

"I told you, it was-" he stopped as he thought. "Has Loki shown you his present?"

"Not yet. Why ask?"

"By Odin's beard, he's going to skin me alive," he said worriedly.

"What are you speaking of?"

"I can't tell you," he said, turning to the oven. "He'll have my head if I do."

She rolled her eyes, "Alright, then. Now tell me, what was it about a party that you mentioned?"

"A ball has been planned in honor of you and Prince Freyr coming of age. It is nineteen for the Vanir, correct?"

"Yes. I suppose it will be more of Freyr's party than mine as he is inheriting the crown by the winter solstice."

"I will never understand why the Vanir relinquish the throne when the heir turns nineteen," a voice behind them said, causing them both to turn in surprise.

Loki walked out of the hall and into the kitchen, "Forgive me for eavesdropping. Your voices carried down the halls."

Freyja shrugged, "No matter. What was it Odin wanted?"

"He simply presented an idea, it was nothing of importance," he said with a shrug. "Ottar, you don't mind if I steal her away, do you?"

"Not at all, my prince," Ottar replied with a bow.

Loki smiled, wrapping an arm around her so that he could turn her around and walk out. He walked quickly out of the kitchens, not allowing her to say another word.

"Loki?"

"Yes?"

"What was it that Odin wanted?"

"I already told you," he said with a frown.

"There's something you're not telling me."

He sighed, "Father wishes Thor to ask for your hand in marriage, as you will become of marrying age tomorrow."

She grimaced, "Lovely."

"What is your opinion on the matter? You are the subject of debate, after all."

"I love Thor as if I would a brother, and I know he feels the same. I'd prefer if people wouldn't speak of me as if I am a prize."

He chuckled softly.

"What is so amusing?"

"Thor said the same thing, except not in such a calm manner."

"Of course he did," she laughed. "Now, tell me: where are we going?"

"You shall see soon enough," he said, pulling out a green silk sash.

Her eyes widened slightly, "No. I will follow you wherever you take me but I will not go blindfolded."

"Whatever is the matter? Scared to put your trust in me?" his teasing smile faded slightly. "You do trust me, do you not?"

She looked into his deep green eyes, "With my life."

She could see the slight surprise in his eyes at her answer. He knew that a Vanir's trust was just as difficult, if not harder, to gain than their respect. His smile turned to a grin as he thought about it.

"Then you won't mind the blindfold."

He placed the thick material over her eyes and tied it so that it wouldn't slip out of place. She couldn't see anything past the fabric but she said nothing of the faint disorientation she felt. He put both hands on her shoulders, leading her from behind.

As he led her through the palace to where his surprise was being held, Freyja attempted to construct a mental map of where they were going. Using the turns they took and the stairs they ascended, she tried to narrow down the possibilities. Before she could lower the number to three hundred, Loki stopped dead.

"I'm very aware of what you're doing, by the way," he said.

"Are you?"

"Yes, and let me inform you now that it's not going to work."

"And why would that be?"

He suddenly spun her around several times, too quick for her to protest.

"That would be why," he answered smugly.

She frowned, unable to tell what exact direction she was facing. Deciding against looking into the future, she discarded any ideas of trying to glean any information on the surprise. He laughed at her resignation before starting off again on their journey through the palace.

"Can you not at least tell me a hint as to where we are going?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"You would be able to guess if I gave you a hint. Now where is the fun in that?"

She sighed again, but was actually quite apprehensive as to what it might be. They climbed uncountable stairs, walked down many empty corridors and turned far too many times to discern where they were going.

"Are you deliberately taking a complex route to throw me off?"

"Now there's the legendary Vanir wisdom I've heard about. I was beginning to believe you were the exception. Now enough questions. We're almost there."

She pressed her lips in a thin line, now trying to think of what Loki could be up to. One last staircase and he paused to open what sounded like two very heavy wooden doors. He walked her through and closed the doors behind them.

"Do you recall when I asked you why you never mentioned your name-day?"

"Yes?" she answered, wondering where he was going with the conversation.

"You told me it was because the Vanir only celebrate the name-days that symbolize a great change in one's life. I always felt sorry for you because you were forced to watch Thor and I receive gifts year after year while you spent your name-day going through your usual schedule."

"And?"

"And I finally found a way to compensate for all those years you received nothing.

"You once told me that you came to Asgard because you didn't feel quite welcome in Vanaheim. Despite your unhappiness, you were always homesick here. When I would sneak into your room to comfort you, you would tell me incredible tales of the vivid world that was your home."

"You remember that?"

"I remember everything. Every word you ever uttered, I recall with perfect clarity. I will never forget.

"While you were away, I wanted to plan some form of surprise for your return. I found inspiration in your stories and the idea formed. It took me years of haggling to gain everything I required. I now have something extraordinary for you. Think of it as twelve years' worth of name-day gifts."

He then untied the blindfold, walking around until he stood beside her. Freyja blinked a few times for her eyes to adjust to the bright light of the room. Loki had apparently illuminated the room through magic but it was quite difficult to see after the darkness of the blindfold.

As her eyes adjusted, she looked in surprise at the sight that greeted her. He watched in happiness as the shock became clear on her face.

"Happy Birthday, Freyja."

"Loki – by the Wise One…"


	3. Chapter 2: Stories

"All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name."

-Andre Breton

* * *

Had the surprise been anything other than what it was, Freyja would have been able to tell Loki just how grateful she was. But there were no words for this. She attempted to comprehend what she was seeing, but it almost didn't seem possible.

It was a garden. A glass-roofed garden that held several varieties of Vanaheim flora, plants that shouldn't be able to grow in the Asgardian atmosphere. The impossibly bright shades of the plants stood out in deep contrast with the night skies. The entire room had been filled with the vegetation so that it almost resembled a miniature woods. All inside the palace of Asgard.

She took a tentative step forward, almost afraid it would disappear if she moved. By all rights, it shouldn't have been possible, and yet a little piece of her home stood before her.

"This is – what did – how did you…?" she couldn't seem to speak as she took in as much as she could of the small paradise.

"There's a florist in the village who occasionally trades with a Vanir," he began, smiling at her reaction. "I managed to work out a deal with her. It took quite a while, as she was a bit hesitant to relinquish what has always only belonged to Vanaheim. But she softened when I explained what they were for.

"When you said the hues would be beyond anything I could imagine, I didn't actually think you meant it in a literal sense. It makes me wonder…if this is what your flora looks like, what must the rest of your world resemble."

"Loki, this is – this is remarkable."

"Do you like it? I'm not sure if everything is ecologically correct, as I sort of patched all of them together in one place, but I did manage to obtain at least one specimen from each biome."

"How could I not love it? No one has ever done anything of this sort for me."

"There's a first time for everything."

She examined one of the trees with chocolate-brown bark and shining golden leaves, "How did you manage to stabilize each one?"

"I adjusted a few spells until I was able to accomplish my goal. The entire atmosphere in this room has been modified to maintain these plants. Is the air in Vanaheim this…invigorating?"

"Yes," she answered, picking a fluorescent pink fruit from one of the bushes and tossing it to him.

He looked at it warily, causing her to laugh.

"It's perfectly edible," she said before pausing to think. "On second thought, that may actually be too much for your palate."

He looked after her skeptically as she began her search for something else.

"What are you insinuating?"

"Asgardian food is, to put it bluntly, quite bland in comparison to the food we eat in Vanaheim. You're accustomed to such, so the food we consume may be far too rich for your tastes."

"Are you saying we are tasteless?" he asked in mock offense.

"Those are your words, not mine," she laughed.

As she walked through the rows of different trees and bushes, Freyja felt the strange sensation that someone was watching her. She glanced around quickly, scanning for a sign of life, when she just barely heard a young boy's voice.

"Keep quiet. You know Father said not to come in here. If he finds us…"

"Hello?" she called into the emptiness.

"Who are you speaking to?" Loki asked as he reached her.

"I'm almost certain I heard someone."

"Nonsense," he replied, shaking his head. "No one knows of this place except us. I made sure of it."

"Loki, I can practically guarantee that there are others in here."

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the foliage for the people she was certain she had heard. His face softened immediately when his eyes stopped at a fairly thick shrub covered in flowers that were a violent shade of purple. When Freyja examined the bush, she found that three pairs of deep green eyes stared back at her.

"Hel, Jormungand, Fenrir," Loki sighed. "What did I tell you about this room?"

Three children, two boys and a girl, stood up and walked towards Loki. The boy dressed in all dark gray had a solemn face with raven black curls and silent green eyes that seemed to take in more than they revealed. The other boy had slightly light hair that was cut in a style similar to the one Thor had once sported, he had a crooked grin and bright eyes that seemed to be laughing. The girl was slightly surprising. Although very beautiful with her long shadow-black hair and pale green eyes, her face was marred as half of it was ash-gray and too tight against her bones. Her raincloud skin and slightly sunken eye only extended to the edge of her nose, giving off the illusion that she was half dead.

"Father," she said in a soft voice. "Is she the Freyja you told us about?"

"Of course she is," the cheerful boy snapped. "Who else could she be?"

The quiet boy elbowed the first, making him rub his side.

"Father?" Freyja mouthed.

Loki nodded, picking up the young girl, "Freyja, allow me to introduce you to my children: Hel, Fenrir and Jormungand."

"Father neglected to tell us you were so beautiful," the quiet boy, Fenrir, said.

Freyja stifled a laugh at his matter-of-fact tone, "Why, thank you."

"I thought Vanir had dark skin and hair," Hel said, eyes wide with interest. "Yet you look like us."

"Hel!" Loki exclaimed.

"It's alright," Freyja laughed, taking the girl from his arms. "I can't walk around in my true form. The sight of me would scare any Asgardian into an early grave."

"Really?" Jormungand asked, voice dripping with curiosity. "Can we see?"

She stiffened slightly at the idea, and Loki could feel her discomfort at the subject. He gave the boy a stern look, silencing him immediately. Freyja, now over her initial unease at the request, was surprised at the idea that Loki was a father.

"So where is the lucky lady and why haven't you introduced us yet?" she asked, nudging Loki slightly.

"Mama's not with us anymore," Hel whispered, burying her face in Freyja's shoulder.

She gave him a worried glance, mouthing, "She left?"

He shook his head and whispered, "W-I-D-O-W-E-R."

Before she could reply, or even respond, Hel spoke up.

"You smell of wildflowers."

Loki began to laugh at Freyja's expression, "Alright. It's late and I believe well past your bedtimes."

"But it's just after dusk," Jormungand whined.

"Off to bed," he said firmly.

Freyja let go of Hel, who went running after the boys. Loki shook his head slightly as he watched them leave.

"You never told me you were married," Freyja said in a mock accusing tone. "All of those letters you wrote and you conveniently left that information out?"

"I would have told you if I thought the notion wouldn't send you running back to see the wedding. I didn't want to disrupt your travels."

"Who was she?" she asked, sitting down on the grassy floor of the room.

"A woman named Angrboda. She was an amazing woman, you two would have gotten along very well. I married her roughly four years ago, and barely a month later she was pregnant with Jormungand and Fenrir. They keep me on my toes, those two do. Fenrir is easy-going enough, but it's Jormungand that causes mischief. If he were any more like me…Father would string us both up by our ankles."

Freyja laughed softly, "He certainly seemed lively."

"Anni always said he would be the troublesome one. A year after the twins were born, we were expecting Hel," he paused slightly before speaking again. "No one is quite certain what went wrong, whether it was the birth or the pregnancy itself, but I lost her the night Hel was born."

Sensing his grief, Freyja placed a hand over his. She wondered what it must be like to fall in love, to start a family, then to lose part of it. He glanced up at her, turned his hand to give hers a light, grateful squeeze.

"It seems strange to me that you were married and had children. Frigga and Algrim must be thrilled."

Loki's bittersweet smile faded away then, leaving Freyja cold. She could feel his guilt and unhappiness rush off him in waves. She felt her own smile fall in apprehension.

"What's the matter? I should think they would both be pleased to have grandchildren. You know Algrim always thought of us as his children."

"Freyja," he started hesitantly. "Algrim…Algrim is dead."

"What? That's not – How?"

"He died six years ago, betraying Asgard was his last act."

She exhaled slowly, trying to reign in her own grief. Algrim, who would sing her long-lost elven songs when she had nightmares and would bring her new dresses for special parties, had been the closest thing she had to a true father. The tall, slim Dark Elf who had reminded her so much of her own people in ways, despite his golden robes and elven features had always been there for her. He was a man she would always idolize, and now Loki was telling her he died a traitor. She simply couldn't process it.

"You neglected to mention that in your letters," she whispered, unable to say anything else.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he looked at her, eyes pleading. "I killed him, Freyja."

Her eyes shot to his, "You…murdered Algrim?"

"I never meant to. I thought Father was dying, and Thor was sparing him, and the sword was right there, I couldn't-"

"Loki!" she snapped.

She took his hand again, trying to put an end to his rambling. His incoherency frightened her, as he had always been good with words. None of his words made sense on top of it all.

"I need you to tell me what happened, from the beginning. I can't make sense of what you're trying to tell me."

He sighed, "Forgive me. It still affects me, no matter how many days pass.

"You remember, no doubt, how Thor was never allowed off the royal grounds. Thanks to Sif, he grew tired of sparring with the Einherjar and dragged me along for a quest. We stowed away on the _Thunder Runner_, Hogun's old ship, and were led to an inn not far from the borders of Asgard."

He smiled half-heartedly, nudging Freyja gently with his elbow, "You were right about their stories, the stories the Warriors Three used to tell. I suppose that means I owe you ten silvers, and Thor owes you thirty."

He glanced at her to see if he had succeeded in lightening the mood only to find her looking back at him morosely. He sighed inwardly, wishing he wasn't the one who had to tell her exactly how and why the one man she thought of as family had died. Then again, had it been up to Thor, the results would have been disastrous. So he continued with his story, watching her face carefully until he came to Algrim's death, where he couldn't seem to meet her gaze.

When he had finished, she kept silent. He watched as she searched his face for a sign of something he couldn't name, desperation clear in her face. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as they both hoped to find what they were looking for. Then without the slightest warning, she threw her arms around his shoulders as she pulled him closer to her.

For a second, he hesitated. Her actions surprised him, and he couldn't help but stare at her in shock before finally returning her embrace. She shuddered as she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Forgive me, Freyja," he whispered into her hair.

"I don't blame you," she breathed back in her own language. "I don't blame you…"

* * *

_"Tell me, Freyja," the pleading voice said softly. "What has hurt you so?"_

_ She looked up into the dark eyes of Algrim, not wanting to name the new face of her tormentor._

_ "Please, princess. I cannot help you if you do not allow me to. Was it the village children?"_

_ "I hear them speak of me when they believe I'm not listening. I hear their whispers, the names they call me," she whispered, burying her face in his golden robes._

_ "Shh, it's alright. They are just words," he muttered as he embraced her._

_ "Am I an aberration?"_

_ "No. Listen to me, Freyja. I need you to pay complete attention to what I'm saying," he said as he pushed her away slightly to look in her eyes. "This is the way Asgardians are. They fear what they know nothing of. Those children, they have not been taught properly. Give them time, and they will find themselves to be wrong about you. Be patient and you will see it for yourself."_

_ "You speak from experience?"_

_ "Yes. Believe you me, things will get better."_

_ She smiled through her tears, hugging him tighter than before, "Thank you, Algrim. You always know what to say."_

_ "You're most welcome, princess. I will always be here for you," he answered cheerfully. "Always."_

_ "I love you, Algrim."_

_ "I love you, as well."_

* * *

Thunder echoed through the room, rousing Freyja from her sleep. She sat up, scanning the room to remind herself where she was. The memory of Algrim from her first month in Asgard clung to her like cobwebs, refusing to leave her thoughts.

Lightning flashed from outside the window, causing her to jump as the room lit up temporarily. She stood up and walked towards the crystal door that led to her balcony. The rain poured down in sheets, obscuring the stars completely with thick gray clouds. With a sigh, she turned away from the window.

There would be no rest for her that night, she knew, and she pulled on her navy blue robe. Lighting the white candle in the silver holder, she walked out of her room and down the halls of the castle.

While she walked, not paying attention to where she was going, she thought about her first months in Asgard. The children had been foul to her, even Thor at the time, and she could even feel the adults' worrying gazes. Very few Vanir lived outside of Vanaheim, and the people of the realms had been uncertain as to how to react to the creatures described only in their wildest stories.

Fear was the main reaction, fear towards what the Vanir were capable of. Only Loki, who was far too curious to pass up the opportunity to actually learn about the Vanir, was brave enough to even approach her out of all the children in Asgard. And while Loki became her first true friend, it was Algrim who decided to look out for her as if she was his daughter.

It was strange that he, the last Dark Elf in existence, was able to actually get her to become comfortable around the Asgardians. Even Frigga had been unable to gain a single word from her until she had met Algrim. And it was only after she considered Odin's advisor as family that she became friends with Thor.

Shortly after she had befriended Thor, Frigga became the mother Freyja never had. It was then that the people of Asgard began to warm up to her, knowing that the Queen's approval overruled all stories that caused them to fear the girl.

And now she was known throughout the realms for her forgiveness and compassion, the former being a trait Algrim helped her with. It seemed surreal that he was now dead, slain for treason against Odin. It almost seemed wrong. He had always been loyal, thoughtful, and wise. Loki's story seemed to negate everything she knew of him.

She sighed, exasperated with what she had been told. First, that Loki had married and sired three children, then that Algrim had betrayed Asgard and died by the Elderstahl's flame. Not in that particular order, of course, but it didn't much matter.

She stopped suddenly, turning to her right to face the metal doors of Odin's Vault. Wondering what in her subconscious had brought her down into the tunnels beneath the palace, she opened the doors and entered the chilly room.

She could name almost every relic inside Odin's much-coveted Vault of treasures, each one bought, stolen or traded to reach their permanent home. At the far end of the room, the Casket of Ancient Winters sat on its pedestal, guarded by the now dormant automaton known only as the Destroyer.

She frowned at the idea that the Destroyer, once a gift from her people, had been used for warfare until fairly recently. It had been the last gift given by her people, as the Nine Realms always abused the gifts. It seemed that the Vanir could do nothing to share their creations without one world paying the price.

But it wasn't the Casket or the Destroyer that caught Freyja's interest, but the Sword of Surtur itself. Loki had explained that it had been confiscated from a Jotun who attempted to destroy Asgard with it not three years after it was returned. As she walked closer, the chill of the Casket gave way to the heat that radiated of the fire sword.

She hadn't told Loki that she knew of the sword, nor had she told him that Surtur stole the sword. She hadn't mentioned that it had been forged by the dwarves for a prophesied warrior maid who had yet to come, but it was stolen before it was finished and infused with the fire demon's power. But to tell him such would be to betray her people, as the story was tied into the clandestine prophecy of Renascentia.

She cringed as she thought of the foretelling of her death. Although she had accepted it, it still bothered her that she had a date marked specifically for her before she had even been born. Shaking away the thoughts of the prophecy, she reached out for the hilt of the sword.

With one quick motion, she unsheathed the blade. Bright flames burst to life around the blade, dancing against the enchanted silver. She watched the tongues lick up and into the air, knowing well that the sword was said to corrupt all who wielded it, with the exception of its destined owner.

"Elderstahl," she whispered out loud. "You bare a name you were not meant to have. What was your name to be…?"

She trailed off, looking at the blade once more. As she watched the patterns created by the flames, it came to her. She knew she had never heard it before, and yet it seemed strangely familiar.

"_Sorsauctor_," she said.

At its name, the sword flared ultramarine. The flames, instead of blazing upward as was natural ran down to the hilt, enveloping her arm in a strange blue inferno. With a cry of alarm, she dropped the sword and backed up until she was across the room from it. The sword clattered to the floor, flames extinguished completely.

She examined her arm, only to find it unscathed. With a final glance at the sword and a flick of her wrist, Elderstahl flew back into its sheath on the pedestal. She turned briskly and fled the room, wondering just what had happened.


	4. Chapter 3: What Isn't Seen

**_Song of the Chapter: I'll Stand by You ~ The Pretenders_**

* * *

_"Don't waste your love on somebody who doesn't value it."_

_ -William Shakespeare_

* * *

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, milady," Aileth muttered as she attempted to pin up another curl of Freyja's hair.

"Must you pick the most difficult one?" she protested, wincing as her chambermaid pulled slightly too hard. "I feel as if you're trying to scalp me."

"Your father gave specific instructions to ensure that everything perfectly."

She sighed, wishing her father hadn't come to Asgard for their party. She was always expected to be infallible when he came for his short visits. Unfortunately, the nineteenth name-day of his two children required a visit. This was the single reason behind why Freyja sat in the chair in front of her vanity table, having her hair slowly pulled out.

"There _is _a simpler way to do that," a calm voice said from behind them.

Freyja turned her head slightly so that she could see Queen Frigga standing in the doorway.

"Lady Queen," Aileth exclaimed as she quickly turned and bowed to the blonde Asgardian.

"Queen Frigga," Freyja said as she turned. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"Is it a crime to pay the Princess of Vanaheim a visit on her birthday? Besides, you neglected to say hello when you returned yesterday."

"Forgive me, I was preoccupied."

"I should have known Loki would whisk you away the second you set foot on land," she said with a laugh. "I wish to speak with you."

"Of course. Aileth, you wouldn't mind allowing us a moment alone, by any chance?"

"Yes, princess," the strawberry-blonde girl said with a bow.

They watched as she walked out of the room, closing the door tightly behind her.

"Do forgive me if I cannot meet your eyes," Freyja said as she returned to the mirror, "I must remove these pins before I lose feeling in my head. I'm not quite sure what Aileth was attempting."

"Allow me," she said, pulling out a few pins as she picked up a brush with her free hand.

Freyja watched as the Queen ran the brush through her hair, pulling what seemed to be random strands of her hair up and braiding them into others. Frigga smiled when she noticed Freyja watching intently.

"Attempting to learn how to do this yourself?"

"No one's ever actually taught me, my being royalty, but I believe it would be easier if I learned."

"Your mother never taught you?"

"She couldn't."

Frigga shook her head, "Forgive me. Your mother's death slipped my mind."

"I understand. We keep our news close to home, causing very little to become well known. Besides, her death doesn't affect me. You can't miss what you don't remember having."

Her face turned solemn as she looked from the Queen's reflection to her own, wondering if it was wrong to feel untroubled by her own mother's death. It had always worried her that she felt nothing towards the woman except for curiosity towards what could have been.

"Is it wrong," she asked suddenly, "to not feel mourning towards the mother I never knew?"

Frigga stared at the girl in shock, "I'm not certain as to-"

"I'm sorry. I should not worry you with such thoughts. Now tell me, what does Odin feel towards being a grandfather?"

The Queen gave Freyja one last concerned glance before smiling, "He retains the same views on children as when Loki and Thor were born. Although I believe him to be exasperated at the fact his younger son offered him grandchildren before his eldest."

"Thor is not favorable to have around children, let alone sire and raise his own. He is neither patient nor flexible, and both are necessary for handling children. And although Loki is many things, I must admit he does have the makings of a good parent."

"You seem to have put a lot of thought in this. Looking forward to marriage, are we?"

"The children, yes; the marriage, not so much."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically, "You do not wish to marry?"

"I wish to marry a man I actually enjoy spending time with. As I am princess, I am not allowed that luxury. I fear I will be forced to endure several outings with suitors my father approves of."

"It is not so terrible, Freyja. When I married Odin, I considered him no more than a friend. Within a few years, I grew to love him and now I cannot imagine my life had I not married him."

"You were lucky, then. You married a man you could enjoy the company of. I'll be lucky if I marry a man whom I can tolerate…"

"I highly doubt your father would marry you off to a man you know nothing of."

"You don't know my father."

* * *

Laughter and chatter echoed through the candle-lit room, causing the golden walls to seem alive as shadows danced across them. Nobles of both the Asgardian and Vanir races filled the spacious court, all dressed in their finest. Men sported their best armor while women paraded around in gowns of silk, satin, and lace. Those who weren't dancing in pace with the orchestra in the corner were either sitting at the tables in the adjoining room or standing about in small groups intent on making conversations.

Two gleaming thrones, one silver and one gold, stood at the head of the room, each seating two regal men. The one sprawled across the golden throne was none other than the white-haired Odin in his gilded armor and helmet. Although the All-father gained much attention, it was the man who sat next to him that seemed to interest the majority. The man who's very presence seemed to demand the onlooker's attention sat perched on the silver throne as if he wasn't the least bit comfortable. With hair as black as the midnight sky and silver eyes reminiscent of stars, he seemed to simply radiate of something from outside Asgard.

Despite his Asgardian appearance, King Njord could not help but be acknowledged by all. If his appearance was not enough, his liquid-like platinum robes and severely pointed silver crown marked him as King of the Vanir. Just barely behind his left shoulder, in a burgundy leather jerkin and a navy cloak, stood none other than Prince Freyr. With his blonde curls and gold-ringed eyes, he seemed to fit in well with Prince Thor, who stood at his father's left.

Freyja watched from a shadowed corner, a smile crossing her face as Thor and Odin bickered quietly while trying not to attract attention. In her cobalt silk gown and silver circlet, she couldn't help but attract as many stares as her father. She resented the rumor that she was the most beautiful maiden in the Nine Realms and wanted nothing more than to disappear, as Thor undoubtedly wished as well.

"Avoiding your guests, are we?" the familiar low voice asked from beside her.

"Not necessar-" she stopped when she turned to face Loki, taking in his appearance.

She had been aware that he, along with Thor, had chosen his official color as well as armor design while she was away, but he had refused to tell her any details. She allowed her eyes to travel up from the black boots, across the gilded chest plate, to the rather large horned helmet. As she examined his choice in armor, she wondered what exactly she had been saying before.

"Thor says I resemble a cow," he said before she could so much as form a statement.

She bit her tongue to keep from laughing, tearing her eyes away from the curved horns to meet his eyes.

"Ridiculous. Cows do not sport horns that curve in such a manner."

"Thank you."

"Goats, however…"

"Now you're just being cruel," he laughed.

"I'm not chastising you, simply noting that horns would not have been my first choice."

"Would you have preferred feathers?" he said, gesturing towards Thor.

"Honestly, I simply cannot picture you in feathers."

"It truly is a shame that your people refrain from sparring. I would enjoy seeing your choices."

"Silver, cobalt and some form of wolf for the helmet."

He raised an eyebrow, "A wolf?"

"In memory of our she-wolf legend. By the way, do tell me what happened to Sif's hair."

"I altered it."

"I can tell that much. What drove you to such?"

"She was constantly pining over Thor, it was making me ill. He refused to notice her, so I gave him a reason to."

"I must question your sanity on that one. You were either extremely brave or incredibly foolish to change Sif's blonde hair to black."

"I sheared it off first."

"Loki!" she cried in disbelief, facing him completely.

"The Vanir here couldn't magic it back, and it turned to ebony when it finally grew back on its own. It is, by far, my most elegant work of magic."

"It is quite a feat," she conceded grudgingly. "I'm surprised, however, that you still stand before me after such an act."

"She came after me with a labrys, nearly took off my head. It was quite a sight."

"You and your antics…"

"So tell me, why is it you refuse to dance at your own party?"

She quickly looked to the floor, muttering under her breath.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"I don't know how to dance."

He leaned down slightly to look at her skeptically, "You don't know how to dance?"

"Not in the way your people do."

"I could teach you."

"And I could make an utter fool of myself in the process."

"Lady Princess," he announced in a mock formal tone, bowing in a ridiculously extravagant manner. "I would be greatly disappointed if you do not honor me with a dance."

"Then I'm afraid it will be so," she said, setting her jaw stubbornly.

"Please?"

She tried to keep her eyes trained one anything but Loki, as she knew he would be gazing at her in a pleading way that was reminiscent of an underfed hound. Despite her looking away, she could feel him staring at her. With a single break of resolution, she spared him one glance and finally crumbled altogether.

"I suppose one dance won't hurt."

She placed her hand in his as he led her out into the center of the room. Many eyes fell upon the two but Freyja ignored them. As Loki led her into a slow and simple dance, he spared the crowd a glance.

"It seems I have become a source of great envy," he laughed. "Figures that they are only envious because of you."

"It won't be you that they'll envy by the night's end."

"What are you planning?"

"Freyr was kind enough to tell me which suitors have attended. I have been observing them."

"And?"

"And many are highly unsatisfactory."

He raised an eyebrow, "Worse than Thor?"

"Exceedingly. It is this reason that Animi and I have decided to go forth with our plans."

"Animi will propose tonight?"

"My father will declare that Animi has an announcement. He will then propose, we will marry and I will be spared the dull life I would otherwise have."

"Will you truly spend your life in such a way?"

"If I find someone I truly love in the future, then perhaps I will welcome him into my life. If not, then I will be content knowing that I am married to a man who at least holds a place in my heart."

"You would welcome a lover?"

"I see no reason not to."

"And I suppose Animi would be perfectly content at the fact?"

"Animi would be thrilled and would, no doubt, constantly invite him to dinner," she laughed. "He wishes me well, Loki. I'm incredibly lucky to have such a friend."

"It still seems strange to me."

"I'm sure it would, but you cannot help it. You are, after all, an Asgardian."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" he asked in mock offense.

"I simply meant it is difficult for you to comprehend our customs."

"Keeping a lover while married is a Vanaheim custom?"

"Well, no…"

"Ah, it's a 'Freyja' custom. Now I understand."

Before she could retort, a familiar hand rested on Loki's right shoulder. Their dancing came to an effective stop.

"I told you they'd no doubt be found together," Thor chuckled to a handsome blonde next to him. "Attempting to whisk her away, brother?"

"I was teaching Freyja how we dance."

"I heard the Vanir could not dance," the blonde man said. "I wasn't sure if I believed it."

"We dance, that I can assure you of," Freyja said to him. "It is simply a different form."

The man was a bit shorter than Loki, but he had the usual broad build and blonde hair of Asgard. Unlike the Asgardians, his eyes seemed to be a mix of gray, blue, green and amber that was both intriguing and compelling. He was an attractive man and seemed to radiate of confidence and humility at the same time.

"Forgive me for the misunderstanding," he said in a voice that reminded her of her people's wine, honey-sweet and smooth as silk.

"Freyja, this is Lord Merek, son of Ulric. Merek, this is Princess Freyja of Vanaheim."

He took her hand as Loki let go of her, bringing it to his lips.

"It is both an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Princess," he stated. "The rumors do not do you proper justice."

She blushed, "The pleasure is mine, Lord Merek."

"Please, just Merek is more than sufficient." – he turned to face Loki – "If you two have finished, I would be greatly privileged if the Princess would treat me to a dance."

"Ask the Princess," Loki said with a smile.

"Of course, where are my manners?" he asked, looking appalled at himself. "Princess Freyja, would you consider indulging a young man with a dance?"

"I would, thank you," she answered with a smile. "And do not bother yourself with titles."

"Your modesty is inspiring. Please excuse us, gentlemen. I would not wish to waste the lady's time."

And with that, he led her away and spun her around.

"You look exquisite in such a gown, Freyja. How is it that no man has whisked you away for themselves yet?"

"Such an eloquent and flattering gentleman, I'm surprised no woman has claimed you for her own yet. Or, at the very least, made it obvious that no other woman may have you."

He laughed, tilting his head back slightly as he did.

"To answer your question, I believe many men were discouraged by my father."

"Ah, yes," he said when he had finished. "The King is quite the fear-inspiring man when it comes to your suitors. One young man was attempting to ask for his blessing earlier this evening, he was sent scurrying away in fright with one stern look."

"That certainly sounds like my father."

"I have heard strange rumors of you, Freyja. I hope you don't mind me clearing a few of them?"

"I am willing to do so, as well."

"I have heard a rather cruel story that you are not truly the daughter of Vanir, as you have neither the silver-ice eyes of your people nor the gold ring of the royal family."

"There is no doubt in my mind that I am not the daughter of Njord and Van. The enigma of my eyes is due to the illness I was born with. The remedy the Healers used caused my eyes to turn this shade. You can see the gold ring when I look into the future."

"Interesting. It seems you are a source of both beauty and mysteries, a truly enthralling mix."

"And here I thought Loki had a well-oiled tongue. It seems you have him at a stand-still."

He laughed once more before saying, "Well, it has been a true delight, Freyja, but I do not wish to keep your other suitors in anticipation. Thank you for the dance."

"You are most welcome," she replied before he bowed and walked away.

She turned around to see Animi making his way through the crowd towards her.

"And who was that you were dancing with?" he asked.

"Merek Ulricson," she replied.

"He was handsome," he noted in their home language. "If you ever find he's not interested in women, do send him my way."

"He's not a bauble to give and take at whim," she laughed.

"Are you saying that you may have a lover but I must content myself with no one?"

"No, I'm pointing out that he is not mine to give away."

He nodded with a smile, knowing she was playing along.

"When will your father announce the proposal?"

"Very soon. Nervous?"

"Not particularly."

"That makes one of us."

He looked at her worriedly, "If you do not wish to do this, Freyja…"

"No. I will go forward with this."

He nodded, knowing she truly didn't want to discuss it anymore.

"Thank you for doing this. I know you were the one to suggest it, but I truly cannot thank you enough."

"You're welcome. You know I would do anything for you."

She entwined her fingers in his, extremely grateful that he was willing to do this. She couldn't imagine what she would do without him.

* * *

"Congratulations," Loki said, smiling.

The two stood at one side of the room, watching as people congratulated Animi at winning her hand.

"Thank you," she answered, fiddling with the new platinum ring on her finger.

"Do you think your new fiancé will mind if I steal you away?"

"To where?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"I wish to speak with you somewhere we won't be overheard."

"I highly doubt he'll mind."

"Follow me, please."

He turned and sauntered out of the room, leaving her to spare Animi one glance before following him out. She wondered idly where he was taking her, knowing it wouldn't be within the palace walls.

She summoned a coat through magic as they walked into the crisp night air. The Asgardian sky was peppered with their constellations and the two moons, lighting the night dimly. As they made their way through the villages, she began to voice her questions.

"Where are we going, Loki?"

"To the Bifrost."

She gazed at the back of his helmet in surprise. The Bifrost was the one place they had snuck out to when they were younger, often bringing peppermint tea and exchanging stories. It, along with the waterfall in the Western Woods, was _their_ place.

When they had reached the crystalline surface of the rainbow bridge, they continued until they were halfway down its length. Loki sat down on the edge, allowing his long legs to dangle over the side. She sat down next to him, wondering what he wanted to talk about. He answered her silent question almost immediately.

"Are you alright?"

"Why would I not be?"

"You just agreed to marry a man you consider no more than a friend."

"So did your mother."

"She told you that?"

"Yes. I can assure you, I've thought this through completely. Why does it bother you so?"

"I'm your friend, Freyja. I don't want to see you unhappy, especially in a life forced upon you."

"I'll be fine," she sighed.

"You don't want this, I can see it in your eyes."

"I already made it clear that I prefer this to the alternative."

He shook his head angrily, "Why do you allow your people to rule over your life in such a way?"

"What choice do I have? No matter what I choose, my father will make certain I am married."

"I just wish there was something I could do."

"Sometimes, we must acknowledge that there is nothing we can do."

He sighed, "You deserve better."

"Fate gives us what our actions call for in reward."

"You have done nothing to call for this 'reward'."

"Why must you argue with me over something neither of us can change?"

"It angers me."

She nodded, "I suppose I understand your logic."

"I should be happy that you are gaining the better alternative, but…"

She leaned her head on his shoulder, "You deserve more, as well. Don't deny it."

"That doesn't change what I think."

"I know."

"Freyja?"

"Yes?"

"Do you recall when we used to sneak out here when we were younger?"

"Yes. We used to exchange stories our people tell."

"Will you tell me one?"

"One you haven't heard?"

"Preferably."

"Alright. Let me think…"


	5. Chapter 4: Sparks Neglected

_"Silences make the real conversations between friends. Not the saying but the never needing to say is what counts."_

_ -Margaret Lee Runbeck_

* * *

Freyja watched her students attempt to move the water in their basins from the front of the room. Odin had granted her the hall when she had agreed to teach magic to the few Asgardians who wanted to learn. Most Asgardians came for the self-defense class to learn how to protect their mind and fight an enemy who wields magic. At the moment, she had six pupils diligently working away at the basins.

She heard one quietly curse the water, causing her to smile. Manipulation of water was a difficult lesson for the ten-year-olds but tackling such a task was easier for the younger students than the older classes. Achieving their goal also allowed them to control ice, mist, clouds, and snow. The mastery over so many areas with one element boosted their morale, so Freyja usually taught it after a particularly trying task.

"Remember," she announced as she walked along the row, "Magic is an extension of your mind, not a weapon you wield at whim. You cannot demand the water bend to your will, it must be coaxed into the actions you require. It is a life force, not a piece of metal, and must be treated as such. If you have difficulty with mental manipulation alone, recite the incantation I taught you this morning."

A few whispered words reached her as a few of the students took her advice. She watched through the corner of her eye as the boy on the end managed to create a small wave. With a glance at the clockwork timepiece on the wall, a relic she had brought from Vanaheim that interested her students greatly, she realized there was only eight minutes before her next class arrived.

"I'm afraid time has run out," she called out to her students. "I suggest you continue to practice at home. I'll expect you at the same time next week."

The students bowed, obviously relieved they could stop for the day, and left quickly. With a wave of her hand, the pedestals moved to the edge of the room and out of the way. The next class was her oldest and would be practicing mental and astral projections. She walked out to the porch, looking down the mountainside to the city below.

Sighing contentedly as the warm breeze rolled through the air, she sat down next to the door and closed her eyes. She needed a short meditation for this next lesson as it would be fairly difficult for both her students and herself. It required her to enter their minds to help them at first. This would bring all of them out of their comfort zones, but she luckily only had four students in this class.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" a familiar voice said.

She opened her eyes to see Merek smiling at her, "Yes, the view is quite stunning. I am lucky the All-Father gave it to me."

"A beautiful hall for a beautiful lady."

"You're too kind," she noted, wondering why something about him troubled her.

He shrugged noncommittally, "It is the truth. Tell me, how does it feel to marry a man you do not truly love?"

"What causes you to believe I do not love Animi?"

"I can see it in your eyes."

"You are more perceptive than I previously gave you credit for."

"And you are a fairly strange woman. I must say that it is very clever, marrying a man you consider a friend rather than marry the one you know nothing of."

"It is an awful long walk from the city to here," she said, trying to determine what he was playing at. "What could possibly lead you to take such a journey?"

"Is it not enough to simply wish for pleasant company?"

"You go to such measures for companionship?"

He sat down beside her, his strange nebula-like eyes boring into her, "I wished to ask you about sorcery."

"Ask away, but know you only have until my next class arrives."

"It is common knowledge that the Vanir can enter the minds of others and manipulate them to their will. What are the limitations, if any, of such an act?"

"It is wise that you've come to me. If you had asked any other Vanir such a question, you would have found yourself the size of an ant. You should take care asking such questions, as they are not taken lightly."

"I'm simply curious as to what your people can do," he stated. "In theory, of course."

"I'm sure you've heard the extent of that information. We can extract memories, manipulate the will, and ultimately destroy the mind if we wish. The prior two cause little to no pain to the victim, but the latter is excruciating."

"I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"Think of your mind as a spider with each leg attached to a string. If you pulled said strings very slowly at precisely the same time, it is indescribable to those who have not experienced it."

"How is it you know this?"

She glanced away, pushing away the memory of her father's lessons, "It is something I was taught."

He placed a hand over hers, startling her, "I will not force you to speak of something that brings you discomfort. I find your company quite refreshing, and would loathe pushing you away over a mistake on my part."

"Have no fear, then, for I forgive easily."

He smiled, then turned as the sound of footsteps reached them. They both stood as Magni, Alfons, Kylan, and Loki stepped up to the stone building.

"Well, it seems my time has gone. Thank you for the marvelous company. I hope to see you again."

He kissed her hand before walking past the four men who watched with curious glances. She turned to glance at them, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you planning on entering, or should I demonstrate how to convert flesh to stone?"

Loki grinned as the other three muttered apologies and quickly walked in. She turned her attention to Loki, knowing he was waiting for something.

"You wish to volunteer for my demonstration?"

"Hardly," he answered. "Although I suppose you would be left with a very attractive specimen."

"Indeed. My students could hang their coats and hats upon you," she said rather seriously as she too walked into the hall.

He wondered if she was teasing him or being completely sincere, but decided not to voice the question. He knew he wouldn't get a straight answer anyway. He took his place next to Magni, standing straight with his hands clasped behind his back. Freyja stood before them, looking as if she wished there was another way to go about this.

"As you very well know, your achievements in today's class will determine whether you will face the Council to gain mastery in magic. In order to progress in the lesson, you must lower your barriers and allow me full access to your mind.

"I am aware that causing yourself such vulnerability is uncomfortable but it is just as unpleasant for me as it is for you. The sooner I aid you, the sooner you can replace your mental barriers. Cooperation is key in this lesson. Do I have your trust?"

All of them seemed slightly hesitant, and she didn't blame them. Loki had told her the stories the Asgardians told of her people, none of them were pleasant. Although her students were comfortable around her, any lessons that dealt with mental links bothered them greatly. It was the fact that they could do nothing to stop her if she wished to harm them that left them nervous. They would have to submit to the fact that she had full control of them, something they did not want to do.

Just as she felt her heart sink at their lack of faith, Loki took a step forward and bowed his head, "You have my trust."

She saw Kylan glance at Alfons before stepping forward, too.

"And mine, as well."

The other two did the same shortly after, and Freyja smiled at the success. Closing her eyes, she pushed her consciousness away from her body and formed a projection next to where she had been standing.

"Mental projection, as you know, is the full separation of the mind from the body. It can be disconcerting the first few times, but you will grow accustomed to the sensation. Unlike astral projection, this leaves the body highly vulnerable as you are no longer inhabiting it. Such a state is similar to death and if kept separate from the soul for too long, the body will begin to decay as a corpse would. Can anyone tell me why?"

She saw the side of Loki's lips quirk up slightly, and knew he had the answer. Instead of asking him, her eyes turned to Kylan who she hoped remembered the answer.

"I'm not familiar with such, Lady Princess," he muttered.

Loki snorted in amusement, causing the man's blue eyes to flash in indignation.

"Perhaps Prince Loki knows," he snapped, hoping to catch Loki off-guard.

"It is because the body is nothing more than a case for the mind and soul. If necessary, a sorcerer can discard an inept body and force himself into a new one of his choice. If you paid more attention to Lady Freyja's teachings and less time ogling her, perhaps you would know this."

Freyja kept her face carefully apathetic as Kylan turned a highly amusing shade of red. Loki looked fairly smug at the reactions that stemmed from his comment, and she knew he had gotten what he wanted.

"Despite the unnecessary afterthought, he is correct. However, Loki, I would appreciate it if you would keep such observations to yourself."

"Of course."

"As I was saying before, leaving your body uninhabited for long periods of time is unwise. Although mental projection does not demand you create a projection of yourself, as I have done, it is less confusing for Asgardians to do such rather than simply move as a psyche alone. If you come against an opponent who uses mental projection to attack your mind, it is much more potent than without the separation. Can anyone tell me why that is?"

"It is because mental projection allows one to attack his opponent with the whole of his mind."

"Good. Now, the incantation for this one is fairly simple but you cannot rely on the words alone. Repeat after me: _separabis videri ex inuise_."

Four voices repeated the phrase, but one slipped across a syllable. She sighed inwardly at the idea that one of her students had been neglecting his pronunciation.

"You must be able to pronounce it properly, lest you end up with very painful results. Once again, please."

This time, all four managed to pronounce it correctly.

"Remember to concentrate on your will as you recite the charm. Do not lose focus when I enter your mind to help you along. And for all of our sakes, do not attempt to retaliate."

They nodded and she returned to her body, rolling her shoulders at the stiffness. She walked behind their row, watching as each one hissed the charm with their eyes shut. It was highly unlikely that one of them would succeed in their task on their first day, but she sincerely hoped she could present the Council with a student that afternoon.

It would bring her great pride if one of her own students was able to finally finish his studies in magic. Without a second thought, she dove into Alfons's mind to see just how far along he was. The eighteen-year-old was struggling with unwinding the ties that chained his consciousness to his body, as most Asgardians did. He stiffened as he felt her presence, but did not pay her any more attention than acknowledging her.

Being careful not to harm any part of his mind, she cut one of the ties that held him back. It would cause him no harm, but would ease his strain. She returned to her own mind to address the class.

"Imagine your skin is nothing more than an article of clothing. Allow it to slip off your consciousness as you would a shirt or coat to slip down your shoulders."

She then moved to Kylan who became slightly panicked at her presence. She placed a hand on his shoulder, willing him to calm down.

"Do not allow your apprehension to cloud your mind," she said softly. "I want nothing more than to help you."

Next was Magni, who was becoming increasingly exasperated at his failed attempts. He was so lost in his own anger that he didn't sense her slipping into his mind.

"Anger will do nothing but hinder your attempts. Calm yourself and it will come to you easier."

She felt the atmosphere crackle around her as she stepped towards Loki. He, too, kept his eyes shut but was repeating the incantation under his breath like a mantra rather than saying it once every three minutes. When she delved into his mind a second later, she found it empty.

"_This is most unpleasant_," she heard his voice say from around her.

The other three had stopped at Loki's voice, watching with interest as Freyja smiled.

"I'm impressed. If you create a projection for yourself, you'll find this not so disagreeable."

"_And just how am I to do that?_"

"Focus your mind."

A very shaky projection of Loki appeared before her, shuddering in disgust.

"This is the most horrid task you have ever given us," his projection said.

"Why don't you describe it?"

"There are no words for this. It is as if I've reduced myself to mist. This form seems highly unstable."

"You may now work on improving your projection. The rest of you, continue where you left off."

The other three returned to their casting, but Freyja turned to Loki.

_I suggest you collect yourself_, she told him through their mental connection, _for you'll face the Council an hour before sunset_.

_What must I do?_

_They will test you on what you know, but each test is different. I cannot tell you with certainty what you will face once behind their silver doors._

He seemed to understand that there was no way she could help him prepare for what he would be challenged with and returned to attempting to fix his projection. Freyja walked back to the front of the room and leaned against the wall. She continued to supervise her students as the remainder of their two hours wore on.

* * *

Freyja sat outside the large silver doors of the Hall of the Council in Asgard. As Asgardian sorcerers couldn't go to Vanaheim, the Council was given a place to reside in Asgard when the need arose. She tried not to yell at Thor who was pacing very loudly next to her. She was regretting her decision to invite Thor as he was now disrupting her meditation.

"How can you simply sit there while Loki faces Heimdall-knows-what?" he demanded.

She opened one eye to gaze at him in mild irritation, "Do not take my silence for apathy, Thor. I, too, worry for your brother, I simply deal with my emotions differently. While you stomp around in the same manner as a charging bilgesnipe, I attempt to calm my mind through meditation."

"And you haven't the slightest idea what he may be doing?"

"I already told you, it is impossible to tell what they may be doing."

"You're people are known for seeing the future."

"What do you not understand about the fact that I have sworn against looking into the future when it regards testing my pupils? Breaking my oath would be tantamount to tying my own hanging rope."

"He could lie dying in there," he growled.

"No one has ever died inside, Thor. He may come out bearing a few bruises or gray hair, but he will not be killed. It would negate the purpose of the test if the pupil died."

He muttered under his breath and she attempted to block out his incessant pacing. She sighed in relief when he stopped suddenly, leaving the room perfectly silent. Until his booming voice echoed through the empty room, that is.

"What was it that you faced?"

Her eyes snapped open in surprise, "When I became a master?"

"Yes."

"I was to hold off an army of Shades for seventy-two hours without food, water or rest."

"Three days?" he asked in shock.

"Yes, but I highly doubt Loki's challenge will take longer than an hour. Standards set for your people and my people differ greatly. We are expected of more."

"I wish I could see what is happening…"

"You need to take your mind off of Loki and think of something else."

"Right," he muttered. "When is the wedding?"

"My wedding?"

"I know of no one else is will be married soon."

"The ceremony will take place after the month has passed."

"To think you've only been here for two months and you are already to be married. Will you return to Vanaheim after you've wed?"

"No. Animi and I plan to stay here permanently."

"Why is it you prefer Asgard over your home?"

"It's complicated," she said as she turned away.

"Does Loki know?"

"He knows only half of my reasons. There are some things better left unsaid."

Thor nodded, jumping as the doors swung open to reveal a white-haired Loki. He stumbled out to the bench where he promptly slouched onto it and leaned his head against the wall. He let out a relieved laugh after catching his breath.

"I thought I would never leave," he chuckled.

Freyja sat next to him and ran her fingers through his hair, causing it to return to its usual shade of raven black. His eyes opened as she did this, but there was only pride to be seen in them.

"Well," Thor demanded. "What happened?"

"I had to face twelve master sorcerers."

Freyja's eyes widened, "There was no possible way for you to win such a battle."

"I didn't have to. I merely needed to keep from falling unconscious before my hour was up."

"And?"

He held up his right hand and wiggled his fingers playfully, a copper ring glinting in the light, "I am now an honorary member of the Vanir and third Asgardian to master magic."

"Such a test seems simple enough," Thor noted. "I see no reason why you cannot teach me your idle tricks."

Loki went to retort, but snapped his mouth shut as he realized Freyja had taken offense to his statement.

"They are not idle tricks," she snapped. "Sorcery is an age-old art that strengthens the mind and soul."

"It is a challenge for the weak. I see no reason why I cannot learn."

"Thor, with all due respect, I cannot teach a man who demonstrates the level of ineptitude you so blatantly flaunt."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Perhaps you should paraphrase your statement as monosyllabically as possible, Freyja," Loki laughed as he watched Thor's expression.

"Right. To put it bluntly, I cannot teach a man with the patience of a bilgesnipe and the creativity of a rock."

Thor gaped at her in a manner that Loki found highly reminiscent to that of a fish out of water. Before he could piece together a reply, the opposite door opened. Loki recognized the Vanir with tousled hair the color of spiced rum to be Animi. The man smiled at the three as he walked closer.

"I take it you passed the test?" he asked Loki.

"With flying colors," Loki replied.

He found Animi was a very agreeable man who was easy to carry a conversation with. It also helped that the Vanir respected and thought highly of Loki, something very few people did.

"I had the feeling you would," he said with a nod. "I say we celebrate Prince Loki's achievement."

"I hear the Boar's Tooth tavern serves the finest honey-wine in Asgard," Freyja noted.

Loki smiled at the idea, "I'm sure it's no comparison to the wine you serve in Vanaheim."

"I don't understand how you enjoy your alcohol when it taste of flowers and is too weak to enjoy," Thor scoffed.

"It's only weak to you Asgardians."

"And what exactly are you insinuating."

"I'm simply stating that our minds are more sensitive to such stimulants."

"Sure, and Loki's the epitome of a golden child."

"You're right, Loki would not be a golden child…"

"Hey!" Loki exclaimed at her statement. "What leads you to believe that I would not be gold?"

"Because you'd be platinum," she whispered as she followed Thor and Animi out the doors.

Loki stood where he was for a second, then allowed a smile to cross his face as he chased after them. Only Freyja would value him more than Thor, he knew, but he appreciated the gesture even more because of it.


	6. Chapter 5: Impossible Possibilities

_**Hey everyone! So I really didn't expect to upload so soon but I had extra time on my hands yesterday and this is what I came up with. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.**_

_**Song of the Chapter: Just A Dream ~ Carrie**__**Underwood**_

* * *

"I really don't know what 'I love you' means. I think it means 'Don't leave me here alone'."

-Neil Gaiman

* * *

The Boar's Tooth tavern had quite an enjoyable atmosphere. It certainly wasn't their usual place, but Freyja was enjoying herself anyway. The place had fairly decent Vanaheim ale as well. She watched as Loki told the story of what happened within the Council Hall, no doubt with a few exaggerations added in.

Thor listened grudgingly, apparently not so interested in the story when it said nothing of his feats. Freyja shook her head absently at a fairly ridiculous aspect of the story that was no doubt a dramatic element Loki thought sounded good.

It was refreshing to see Thor and Loki acting relatively civil for once, but she couldn't decide whether that was good or not. She stood in hopes of getting another drink, but Animi stopped her with a touch to her arm.

"Would you like me to buy you another?" he asked.

"I'm capable to buy my own drinks," she laughed.

He nodded with a smile, knowing she wanted a short break from the story. She walked over towards the bar, pulling a few silver coins out of her pocket. She placed both the money and the crystal goblet on the smooth wooden surface. A robust woman with her blonde hair pulled up into a bun turned to face Freyja.

"What can I help you with, milady?"

"If I could buy another glass of the Vanaheim ale you served not long ago, I would be most grateful."

"Of course," she answered as she walked into the cellar to retrieve the bottle.

"A fair lady such as yourself should not have to pay for her own drinks," a deep voice said next to her.

She turned to look at a rather tall, broad man with shaggy blonde hair and the usual Asgardian blue eyes. He smiled as he watched her eyes roam up and down his figure.

"I see no reason why I should not pay for myself when I am the one enjoying the drinks."

He laughed heartily, "I can respect that, but allow me to take this one, lass."

She wrinkled her nose as the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath made itself noticeable, "Thank you for the thought, but I truly think I can handle one drink."

The barmaid returned with a thin bottle, filling Freyja's glass and taking the money. She nodded her head in thanks to the woman and turned around to return to the table.

"Oy! Hold on, now. I haven't finished."

She froze as he grabbed her wrist tightly, causing her to drop her glass. Turning to look at him from over her shoulder, she allowed a look of mild distaste to cross her face.

"Yes, I believe you have," she said sharply, pulling her arm from his grasp.

As she started to walk once more, he grabbed her shoulder roughly and turned her around.

"Well, it seems you are wrong. Why don't you grace me and the boys with your company? I can guarantee a night you'll not forget."

"You think me a harlot?" she demanded.

"Come on, love, don't play coy," he laughed as he brushed his hand against her cheek.

She slapped away his hand, "I am not your 'love' and I am most certainly done with this conversation."

She cried out in indignation as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I fancy a maid who has a little fire," he said softly. "Makes things interesting."

He stiffened as a hand gripped his shoulder. Both the man and Freyja turned to see who had interrupted the scene. Animi, flanked by Loki and Thor, stood looking frighteningly apathetic at the man.

"I suggest you let her go and stand down," he warned in a cool voice.

"And I suggest you mind your own damn business, _argr-þurs_," he spat.

Loki seemed to snarl under his breath at the insult, but Animi stayed collected. Freyja knew the term was the most derogatory name the Asgardians had for the Vanir. It insinuated that they were effeminate Jotun descendants, something her people did not take kindly to being associated with. Magic was usually considered argr among the Asgardians, but most knew better than to state that to a Vanir's face.

"I do not wish to fight. Heed my warning, let her go."

Something dark flashed in Animi's silver eyes, and the man's companions came rushing forward.

"Stand down, Volund," one hissed. "It's not worth a brawl with the sons of Odin."

"Sons of Odin?"

Volund peered at Loki, "I'm not afraid of a sorcerer who is too weak to fight as a man should."

"Volund," Thor spoke at last, "do not take actions you will regret."

Volund let Freyja go, his lips curled into a snarl, "Of course, my prince."

"Let us leave this place," Animi muttered as they turned to exit.

"I suppose it would be treason to steal the Prince's mistress," Volund said to his friends with a chuckle. "I wonder if she spreads her legs for the younger prince, as well."

All four stopped at the crude comment. Freyja turned to Loki, watching as a blade of green energy formed in his hand. Before they could stop him, he spun around and sent the knife flying towards Volund. The man's knees buckled as the energy spread through his body, causing him to shudder in pain.

"And let that be a lesson for you," Loki growled, turning towards the door.

Freyja lost track of what exactly happened after, but one thing led to another and soon the whole tavern was in chaos. The sound of fists hitting flesh and metal striking metal filled the small building. She dodged through the rush of bodies, hoping to find a familiar face in the madness.

She caught sight of Thor, completely surrounded by men and yet still holding his ground. Green sparks of Loki's aura were visible just beyond Thor. Wondering where Animi was if not with them, she rushed through the crowds in search of some sign of his turquoise aura.

She caught sight of Animi almost backed up against the wall. Volund, sword in hand, swung in attempt to wound him but never managed to land a blow as the Vanir dodged quickly from side to side. As she ran closer, he caught sight of her. His eyes flashed a silent warning but she was no longer paying attention to him. Volund had found his opportunity.

A scream pierced through the noise of the fight, causing all to stop at the sound. Loki felt his blood run cold as he recognized the cry. He pushed his way through the crowd to the source of the sound. As he shoved the last person out of his way, he stopped and stared at the scene before him.

Volund stood before Animi, his sword embedded into the Vanir's chest. Both seemed to be frozen in place before Volund let go of his blade with a yelp, the metal strangely red as if it had just been taken from the forge. Freyja ran towards Animi, hands on either side of his face to look him in the eye.

"Freyja…" he whispered, just before his head went limp.

"No. No…" she seemed to say under her breath. "No!"

Loki ran to her side, arms wrapping around her to keep her from falling to her knees. She continued to cry out, but no longer in the language of Asgard. Volund looked from Animi to Freyja, shock clear one his face.

"Freyja? _Princess_ Freyja?" he stared at Loki and Freyja before falling to his knees.

"Princess, forgive me. I did not know-"

"Silence!" Loki yelled, causing the man to stop short.

Two guards, no doubt called by one of the patrons, stepped on either side of Volund and pulled him away. Thor stepped forward and pulling the blade from Animi's body, causing it to fall to the floor. Freyja had gone silent, head hanging in grief. Loki could feel the hot tears soaking through the thin silk shirt he wore.

"Let's leave this place," he said softly, not wanting to cause her anymore pain.

"Animi," she said in a strangled voice.

"Thor will bring him back," he muttered, knowing she what she was thinking. "We can lay him to rest properly when we return."

She allowed him to half-lead and half-drag her out of the now silent tavern. Thor was indeed carrying Animi's body, but didn't look pleased with it. They drew quite a bit of attention as they walked through the streets, but Loki realized Freyja didn't seem to be paying attention. Her eyes were gazing into the distance as if she couldn't see what was around her. He couldn't help wonder if you was going to be alright.

* * *

Loki knocked gently on Freyja's door, hoping she was willing to let him in. It had been two hours since they had returned and she had not come out yet. The funeral would be within a few minutes. Despite it being late, Freyja refused to wait for sunrise to go through with the ceremony. He knew this was out of respect, as the Vanir believed their dead should be bid farewell within five hours of the death.

"You may enter, Loki," he heard her call from the inside.

He opened the door to find her in a reserved white dress, the color of mourning for her people, sitting on the handrail of her balcony. She stared out onto the city below, her right hand clenched around something he couldn't see.

"I cared greatly for him," she said softly, still not taking her gaze off the city. "Not in the way everyone thought, but he meant a great deal to me."

"I know," he said as he walked towards her, unsure of what else to say.

"When I left Asgard, I missed you greatly. I felt as if I was a stranger among my own people, but then I met Animi. He was incredibly compassionate, and I found that he brightened my days considerably. During our travels, he would listen to anything I had to say, even if it was simply my longing to return here. He never replaced you, of course, but he found a place in my heart, as well. And now he lies dead, slain in a fight that was not his."

There was silence as she paused, and he knew he should remain silent. There was nothing he could say that would make a difference so he simply listened, as he knew that was what she needed.

"It's ironic that with all the stories your people tell of mine, all the tales of blood-thirsty Vanir who can kill a man without so much as lifting a finger, never once will you see a Vanir kill an Asgardian in cold blood. Your stories say that we are foreboding creatures similar to Jotuns, but when have we ever initiated any battle? Even the war between our peoples was started by the fear of the Asgardians.

"We are said to be the most dangerous race of the realms, and yet who do you see running off to start battles in distant realms simply for something to do? Did you know that what Volund did could be considered an act of war?"

"He will be punished for his crime tomorrow," Loki breathed.

"I pardoned him."

"You _what_?"

"I pardoned him of his crimes. He is, no doubt, attempting to put as much distance between himself and I at this very moment."

"Why would you pardon him?"

"If he had been put on trial, he would have been sentenced to death. What good would that have done? Would it have brought Animi back? Would it have turned back time? No, it would have needlessly spilled more blood. Two wrong actions do not create a right one."

"So you showed him mercy?"

"No, Loki. Death would have been mercy. He must live with his crimes now, knowing for all eternity that he murdered an innocent man and caused me and many others great sorrow. What lesson do the dead learn? He is alive, he will feel guilt, and he will learn to stay his hand."

"Do you not believe in execution in Vanaheim?"

"No. Death as a punishment is pointless, it is life that is cruel."

He edged towards the balcony, looking over the side to determine whether he wanted to sit in the same manner she was or not.

"Are you not afraid of falling from such a height?"

She shrugged, "What have I to fear from falling? Such a fall would not kill me, and therefore does not pose a threat."

Not willing to show discomfort when she was perfectly calm on the stone edge, he eased himself onto the smooth surface and kept his eyes off the height.

"I have three candles now," she sighed.

He stopped to think about what she meant, then recalled when she told him of the customs of her people. It was common that a Vanir who had lost a friend or family member would keep a candle burning in their memory. The candles were usually enchanted to burn for eternity without actually melting it. She was referring to how many loved ones she had lost.

She opened her hand slightly, revealing her engagement ring. She looked at it rather sadly at the sapphire-studded band of platinum. She closed her hand around it once more, silver tendrils of her aura pouring from between her fingers. When she opened her hand again, a silver-feathered hummingbird with dark blue eyes lay in her palm. With only a second's hesitation, the bird flew out of her hand and into the air. She watched it until it disappeared in the distance.

"Will you come with me to the ceremony?" she asked quietly. "I fear I don't have the strength to go alone."

"Of course I will accompany you. I thought of Animi as a friend, though I knew him for only two months."

She slid off the stone and walked into her room, leaving him to follow her. He watched as she attempted to put on a necklace with one hand while she held her hair up with the other.

"Here," he said, taking the necklace from her. "Let me take this."

She pulled up the stray strands with her free hand as he latched the thin chain around her neck. His eyes ran down from her hairline down her neck to her pronounced shoulder blades, as the neckline of her dress hung loosely off her shoulders. His fingers trailed down slightly, never making contact with her skin, until he caught himself. Shaking his head, he allowed his hands to fall to his sides.

"There you are," he said promptly, silently wondering what he had been doing.

She let her crimson curls fall across her back and turned to face him, "Thank you, Loki."

He glanced down at the strange pendant that hung at the end of the silver chain. Pulling the chain up softly, accidentally brushing the back of his hand against her collarbone, to get a better glimpse. It was a small blue cube that seemed to glow and move, held in place by what looked like tree roots made of silver

"Interesting necklace," he noted, letting it fall.

"Father gave it to me on my twelfth name-day."

"What sort of gem is it? I've never seen one that seems so…alive."

"It's not a gem," she said in a slightly guarded tone. "Its name, in your language, would be Muse."

He glanced from the Muse to Freyja's face, "It matches your eyes."

"Yes. Interesting, is it not?" she said with a bittersweet smile. "We should leave, the ceremony will begin soon."

She turned and walked out the door, turning to see he was following her. They walked out of the palace, gaining no attention from the servants who knew exactly where they were going. While they walked out of the palace, Loki willed his black leather to turn white out of respect for the Vanir's customs.

Freyja turned as the change caught her eye, "You do not have to do that."

"It would be rude not to," he answered.

She gave him one last glance before turning down the alley towards the woods, "White suits you."

He looked at her through the corner of his eye, "Truly?"

"I believe you've forgotten that I cannot lie, though I do prefer your usual black."

He nodded, unsure of how else he should reply.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he answered without pause.

"Why did you choose green?"

"It was my second choice," he answered, not quite wanting to explain.

"Second?"

"My first was taken."

She paused thoughtfully as they made their way to the foot of a mountain, "I didn't think you favored red."

"Not red."

She raised an eyebrow, "What color did you want?"

"Blue," he admitted grudgingly.

"Blue? My color?"

"I wanted a permanent reminder of you."

She smiled, making him wonder what he had said.

"What are you thinking of?"

"When Animi, Freyr and I were in Niflheim, there was this incredible gemstone that only grew deep in the caves that hold the Nidhogg. They were an amazing shade of green, the exact shade of your eyes. I wanted one so much that I persuaded Animi and Freyr to go in with me. We were fourteen at the time, and thought none would know the wiser so long as we returned before sundown."

"What happened?"

"We personally met the Nidhogg."

"And?"

She pulled an uncut gem out of her pocket and gave it to him, "We survived the Nidhogg and my father's ranting."

"A feat worthy of a warrior," he said, handing it back.

She laughed, and he smiled at the fact that he was able to make her temporarily forget the sorrows of the day.

"Speaking of incredible feats, how does it feel to be the third Asgardian to become a master of magic?"

"To think I am one of the first is quite nice."

She nodded, "I'm proud of you."

His head snapped towards her in surprise, "You're…proud…of me?"

"For an outsider to become a master of magic, it is no easy task."

"Praise from the praise-worthy," he mused. "That is very high praise, indeed."

She shook her head, but her smile faded when she saw they had reached the overhang of the mountain. The sadness from earlier crept back into her blue eyes as she looked to the pedestal, made of silk laid over straw, Animi lay on. The Healers had cleaned him up so that he almost seemed to be sleeping.

Loki examined the body from where he stood, surprised that they dressed him in the finest silks and leather. If this was how they dressed their dead, he couldn't help but wonder how they must dress for weddings. A few Vanir close to Freyja and Animi stood around the body.

Freyja stared at the body as if she couldn't move any further. Taking her face in his hand, he wiped a tear that was falling down her cheek.

"Everything will be fine. I'm here for you," he whispered.

He then took her right hand and placed it against his cheek, as was custom for the Vanir to show empathy. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise at the gesture and he knew his memory of what she had told him shocked her. Letting her hand drop, he walked with her towards the body.

The others watched her, waiting for her to continue. Loki knew it was their custom to burn their dead, but it was the one closest to the dead who lit the fire. It was a symbol that the mind and body was moving to the life after death. And so Freyja conjured blue flames in the palm of her hand and kneeled down at Animi's feet.

"_Vale_, old friend," she whispered as she placed her hand by the fabrics, allowing the flames to light the pile.

She stood up and stepped back towards Loki, crying silently as she watched the flames engulf the pile. Sensing her grief, Loki wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. With her back to his chest, he could feel her shuddering breaths as she cried. He rested his chin lightly on her head as the Vanir began their song.

It was in their own language, but Loki could understand every word thanks to Freyja lessons. The song was slow and haunting yet beautiful all the same, telling the story of a ship at sea that found a better place in the end. He knew it was meant as the ship was the dead finding happiness in the afterlife, but he couldn't help wishing it applied to the loved ones the dead left behind.

Unable to do anything else, Loki held Freyja comfortingly as she watched the flames. She closed her eyes as she, too, joined the song. He closed his eyes as well, listening to their voices echo over the mountain as smoke rose into the skies. Nothing was certain, but he silently prayed everything would be fine in the end.


	7. Chapter 6: Fanning the Flames

**_This chapter was pretty fun to write, although I feel the last bit was kind of rushed. It's a little longer than my last couple of chapters but definitely not as sad as the last. The song is for the entire chapter, with the exception of the fight. Sorry about that but that's just the way I am. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it._**

**_Song of the Chapter: I Know You Care ~ Ellie _****_Goulding_**

* * *

"He's not perfect. You aren't either, and the two of you will never be perfect. But if he can make you laugh at least once, causes you to think twice, and admits to making mistakes, hold onto him and give him the most you can. Because perfect guys don't exist, but there's always one guy that's perfect for you."

-Bob Marley

* * *

It had been a very long day for Freyja. A week had passed since Animi's funeral and many men had attempted to court her. It was exasperating that they all believed she would jump at the chance to marry any of them. Her students were suddenly grating on her already thin patience and Loki, who she had asked to help out in the classes, was the opposite of calming. He was banned from teaching without her supervision as he had frozen all of her students to their water basins while she was deterring Odr not three days after the funeral. She had not been pleased.

She had been more than exhausted when she had reached her chambers and had collapsed into her bed, not even bothering to change out of her tunic and trousers. She was on the verge of sleep when someone decided to knock obscenely loud on her door in an almost obnoxious way. Muttering under her breath, she walked towards the door to reveal an oblivious Thor and a strangely wary Loki.

"Thor? Do you know what the hour is?" she demanded. "If you've come to tell me you've found Mjolnir, I swear to the Wise One-"

"Loki has indeed located Mjolnir, but that tale is for the journey. Dress yourself in your finest gown and a veil, we are off to Jotunheim for your wedding!"

She stared at him, half expecting him to tell her he was joking. Instead of laughing, he simply beamed at her with high hopes.

"Finest go – Wedding?" She stuttered, trying to comprehend what he was telling her. "Thor, go back to bed. You're drunk…"

"No, I am perfectly fine. Thrim demands your hand in marriage in return for Mjolnir. Now hurry, for we cannot be late."

Freyja's eye twitched ever so slightly, causing Loki to back up in apprehension. He knew marriage was a touchy subject for her and it had been a trying day for her. Thor had just willingly thrown himself to the sharks, and there was no way in Hel that Loki was going to save him this time.

"If you are so anxious to retrieve your hammer then why don't _you_ go to Jotunheim and marry him yourself!"

And with that, she slammed the door in their faces. Thor turned to his brother, complete surprise on his face.

"What did I say that was disrespectful?"

"Thor, the simpler question would be what you didn't say," he sighed, flicking some dust off the shoulder of Freyja's cloak of feathers. "I'll see if I can persuade her, you speak to Father about this mess."

Thor nodded and walked off in the direction of the royal chambers. Loki took a second to collect himself before knocking softly on the door. The door swung open once more. Freyja closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Loki, you know I consider you a great friend but I won't tolerate any attempt to persuade me into this ridiculous scheme of yours."

"We're not going to force you into something you don't wish to do, but please reconsider."

"I'm not going to Jotunheim!"

"You're not actually going to marry Thrim, that's the beauty of the entire plan. We only need him to think that is the case."

"So you would have me dress for a wedding and parade myself around the Nine Realms for all to see?"

"Just for the night," he corrected.

"You wish for me to present myself before Thrim, looking as lustful as a bride, and act as if I will marry him?"

"Exactly – Wait! No, that's not how I meant it," he sighed, thinking of exactly how to explain it to her. "All I ask of you is to dress in the finest dress you own and come with us to Jotunheim. The only thing you will need to do is sit at his table until he returns Mjolnir to Thor."

Before she could respond, a familiar face stopped before them.

"King Odin requests both of you in the Throne Room as soon as possible," Radhulf told them.

"Thank you, tell him we will be there soon," Freyja sighed in resignation.

She closed the door behind her, "I suppose we had better go."

The two walked in the direction of the throne room, both looking weary. Loki took off the cloak and handed it to her. Tossing it over her arm, she looked him over in concern.

"What exactly happened?" she asked.

"I heard rumors in Niflheim that there was a Jotun who claimed to have stolen Mjolnir and hidden it. I traveled to Jotunheim to investigate. It was there I found Thrim, who was, indeed, bragging of his feat. I attempted to persuade him to return the hammer, but he insisted on a bargain. He demanded your hand in marriage in return for Mjolnir.

"I then returned here and sought out Thor. Attempting to persuade Thor not to wake you went worse than my attempt with Thrim. I feel as if I'm losing my touch."

She rolled her eyes with a smile, "The day you lose your silver-tongue is the day Ragnarok dawns."

He laughed at the thought of the worlds spiraling into destruction based on his abilities of persuasion. They fell silent as they entered the throne room, watching as the rest of the gods were attempting to form a plan. Loki sat to his mother's right as Freyja moved to sit across from him and next to Freyr.

"I trust Loki has told you the extent of the situation," he asked as he turned to face her.

"He has," she nodded.

"Freyja," Odin started, causing the table to fall silent. "What is your take on the matter?"

"Thrim expects you to hand me over as if I were a simple treasure, so we must keep him civil by allowing him to believe such. I cannot go alone, but we can send but a few without it seeming suspicious."

"We can send no more than three and absolutely no warriors without it being taken as a battalion," Fitch noted.

"But we cannot send only women. Even with Sif, they would not be able to escape alive," Forseti pointed out.

Kvasir looked at Thor, then to Freyja, "Perhaps we _can_ send warriors without alerting the Jotuns."

Freyja looked from Kvasir to Thor and back again, "That is truly ingenious. Thor will go with me to Jotunheim."

"And how will that not alert the Frost Giants?" Thor demanded. "I cannot simply waltz into Jotunheim in full-battle armor."

"You won't be in armor, Thor," she smirked. "They must believe they face only women."

"And how do you propose we-" he stopped as he processed what she said. "No. I refuse to dress as a woman."

"That is a brilliant idea," Loki said with a grin. "To better it, what if you dressed as Freyja? When the time comes to fight, Thrim will not expect Freyja to land the first blow."

"That would be effective," Snotra admitted.

"And Loki could accompany him in the form of a woman," Freyja added, waiting for Loki's response.

"What?" he demanded.

"In that way, Thor would not go alone and it wouldn't appear to be suspicious."

Both Thor and Loki immediately began arguing that they would not dress as women, no matter the cost. Odin finally settled the matter, sending Thor to Fulla to be dressed in a wedding gown while Loki was left to Freyja for a quick lesson in how to be a woman of elegance.

The throne room soon emptied until Freyr, Freyja and Loki were left alone. Loki stood up, waiting for Freyja's instruction.

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Are you waiting for an invitation?"

"What do you expect of me?" he scoffed.

"Has Freyja not taught you how to change your form?" Freyr asked with a laugh.

"Of course she has. I simply don't know what form to take…"

"Start with mine and we'll work from there," she suggested.

With a sigh, Loki closed his eyes in concentration. Emerald green tendrils of his aura wrapped around his body. He shrunk slightly, his hair grew longer, his features sharpened in areas and when he opened his eyes, he was almost identical to Freyja. She walked a circle around him, inspecting his version of her in the simple blue dress he now wore.

"Not bad," she admitted grudgingly. "If you change your hair to blonde, round your face ever so slightly, and elongate your legs, you will be the perfect Asgardian lady."

He accommodated his figure to match the requirements, leaving a very lovely form that would fool any man. He looked down at himself in mild distaste.

"Whatever is the matter, Loki?" Freyr asked. "Are you not found of women?"

"I have great admiration for a woman's figure, I simply do not fancy such a form on myself."

Freyr suddenly shifted into a fairly long-legged blonde with regal features and pale skin. He glided over to Loki, leaning towards him suggestively.

"Do you fancy this form?" he asked teasingly, his voice no different than any other woman.

Loki's high cheekbones became tinged with pink, "If it were not you, I might find myself interested. Seeing as that is not the case, I'm not sure whether I find it amusing or, quite frankly, disturbing."

Both Freyr and Freyja laughed at his expression. Freyja shifted her form to another blonde, reminiscent of Sigyn. She picked up an empty silver plate to examine her appearance.

"I don't understand what is so appealing about blonde hair," she muttered. "It doesn't truly make a difference. Loki, what are your thoughts on the matter?"

He walked over to her, running his eyes over her figure, "I find blonde hair to be monotonous. Your red hair is much more appealing, especially with the shade of blue your eyes are."

She blinked in surprise at his comment. Thor's voice from down the hall caused them all to jump. He came into the room in a long silver dress and veil.

"Loki," he stopped when he saw them, each one as a different blonde woman. "I have no time for this, brother. Which one are you?"

Loki raised an eyebrow, "Can you truly not tell which one of us is your own brother?"

"Can you not distinguish one from the others?" Freyr asked skeptically.

"Have you never paid enough attention to determine who I am, brother?" Freyja asked teasingly.

Thor glanced at each one of them, irritation and exasperation in his eyes, "Enough of this nonsense! I am laced up in a corset and lace, I have no more patience for such games."

"Your recognition is flattering," Loki said sarcastically. "Have you truly not looked me in the eye enough to recognize the shade?"

"Of course I have. They are…gray, are they not?"

Loki's disappointment was clear in his eyes, but his face was clear of any emotion.

"They're green, Thor," Freyja corrected. "Green as the emeralds the dwarves mine."

Loki looked at Freyja in surprise, giving her a look she couldn't recognize. Freyr shifted back into his Asgardian form, smiling at Thor's look of nausea.

"Come now, Thor. You act as if you were unaware of the fact I can change my form," he said with a smile.

Thor remained silent, visible skin paling as if he would be sick at any moment. Freyja also returned to her own form, turning to her brother.

"Perhaps you should return to your chambers. I have quite a bit to teach these two in such a short time."

"Of course. Good night and good luck, sister," he said with a nod.

She watched him leave the room before turning to Thor, "Alright, show me what you know. Heimdall knows this is going to be difficult."

"What should I start with?"

"Lower your voice. I lady very rarely raises her voice and most definitely never yells."

"Like this?" he sighed.

"Better, now let's see your walk."

Grumbling under his breath, he walked from one end of the hall to the other. Freyja closed her eyes after, praying that Thor was a quick learner. Loki broke out into hearty chortling next to her.

"Very feminine," he laughed through gasps.

"Loki, you must pay attention, as well. Have you ever heard me, or any woman, laugh in such a way?"

"How would you have me laugh?" he said with an amused look.

"Try to soften your voice," she said, knowing full well he knew how to do that. "Thor, pull your shoulders back when you walk and keep your chin parallel to the ground. Shorten your strides and your heel must touch the floor before your toes. And this time keep your feet pointed straight before you. I know for a fact I don't walk as a duck does."

"I do not walk as a duck does!" Thor cried in indignation.

"Voice, Thor. And in the presence of a respectable figure, you must hold your tongue."

He cursed, causing her to chastise him further. He pulled back his shoulders, tilted his chin up ever so slightly, and attempted to walk as she had told him. She nodded, halfway content.

"Let us see what you have, Loki," she said, turning to him.

He walked across the room and back, standing next to Thor in end.

"You have better posture, at least. But a woman should not strut as you both do. Also, you should sway your hips just a bit."

"This is worse than mother's lessons," Thor muttered as they walked across the room again.

Loki laughed softly, keeping to Freyja's directions. She smiled when they returned to their positions before her.

"I'm afraid Loki outshines you in walking, Thor," she said with a grin.

"I'm not sure whether to be offended or gratified," Loki muttered.

"Now, for the most difficult part: table etiquette."

With the flick of her wrist, two chairs swung towards them. Both sat, unsure of what to do next. Freyja sighed as she looked over Loki, sprawled across the seat with his knees far apart.

"Backs straight, but don't lean on the chair. Keep your legs crossed, or at least together. When not occupied, keep your left hand on your knee and your right on top of it. And, as with walking, keep your shoulders up and back and your chin level."

When they had finished with that, she sat down as well.

"I'm about to tell you quite a bit, so you must pay careful attention. When you sit at his table, do not so much as touch a fork before Thrim begins to eat. Thor, mouth closed when you eat. Try to make as little sound as possible and don't fidget. Elbows off the table at all times, no exceptions. Take small bites, do not reach across the table and, for the sake of the Yggdrasil, your napkin is not for decoration.

"If Thrim asks something of you that you do not wish, politely decline. Keep conversation and do try to think before you speak. Charm is a must, but not in excessive doses. Keep your wits and patience about you and remember a lady always demonstrates poise, self-control and dignity."

Taking a breath to see if they had caught all of it, she spared the window a glance. It was fairly dark but she knew it couldn't be too late.

"I will accompany you, but only as a handmaid. Loki, I suggest trying a more reserved gown as it will be Thor who will need to capture Thrim's attention."

"What caused you to change your mind?" Loki asked as they walked out.

"The fact that you two need a proper lady there to at least give the illusion that not all Asgardian women are masculine."

"You're not an Asgardian," he pointed out.

"Thrim isn't aware of that, though."

* * *

Loki, Thor, and Freyja stood outside the door of a large hall in the freezing winds of Jotunheim. Freyja had knocked, as she feared Thor and Loki might break the door down if she had allowed them to. She shivered as another gust of wind blew across the empty plains. Thor brushed some stray flurries off his dress, not as cold as her in his many layers of silk, satin and lace.

Before Freyja could knock once more, the door opened to reveal a Jotun in several furs. He smiled as he looked at the three, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight.

"Welcome, ladies, to my hall. I am Thrim," he said proudly, his accent twisting the words until they were barely recognizable. "You must be Princess Freyja and her maids."

"Yes," Loki spoke up. "I am Adis and this is Saevor."

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you all. Come inside, dinner is on the table."

The trio followed Thrim warily, silently hoping that all would end well. The hall was surprisingly ornate for Jotunheim, with stone walls covered in paintings and tapestries of all sorts. Thrim led them to the dining hall which held a large mahogany table and chairs. The group sat down, with Thrim at the head of the table, Thor to his right and Freyja and Loki to his left.

Loki immediately began speaking to Thrim about the negotiations while Thor began to indulge himself with the feast before him. It took all of Freyja's will not to gape at Thor in horror as he began to work his way through an entire ox.

"Saevor? Saevor, are you listening?" Loki asked.

Freyja turned her eyes away from Thor, "Forgive me, Adis. It has been a tiring day and I drifted off in my weariness."

"I would believe so," Thrim laughed. "I cannot imagine Freyja's gown would be a simple feat."

"It was a daunting task, but worth the results," Loki said with a smile.

Freyja nodded and took a drink of her mead as Thor finished the ox and moved to the salmon. Once finished with three of the fish, he downed an entire stein of the ale. She gave him a swift kick to the leg once he had finished, silently willing him to stop. He apparently did not understand her meaning as he continued with a new fish.

Thrim eyed him in surprise, "I have never seen a bride eat or drink so heartily…"

"I can assure you that Freyja does not usually eat with such rigor," Freyja said, once again hoping Thor would catch the message.

"Yes," Loki said quickly. "She simply is famished from the fasting."

"Fasting?" Thrim asked with raised eyebrows.

"Every decade, the Vanir take a week to fast as a symbol that the decade has ended."

Freyja smiled at Loki's knowledge of her people's customs, but also grateful that the Jotuns would have no clue what they were.

He nodded, "Now, back to Mjolnir. I will return the hammer to the Thunderer once I have married Freyja on the morrow. He may come to the ceremony to retrieve it. I-"

"Another!" Thor called as he threw his glass to the ground.

Both Loki and Freyja winced at the act, wondering what Thrim would think of the gesture. He looked from Thor to the two with confusion clear on his face.

"Asgardian habits tend to wear off on our visitors," Freyja said with a nervous laugh.

Thrim turned to the serving Jotun, "Well, you heard the lady. Bring another stein of mead!"

He returned his attention to Loki and Freyja, who were both praying fervently that nothing else would go wrong. Thrim suddenly stood up and walked towards Thor.

"It is very late, and you ladies must be tired. I shall have the servants show you to your rooms for the night. I pray you sleep well, Freyja. Until tomorrow…"

Without warning, Thrim pulled off Thor's veil and kissed him full on the mouth. Loki and Freyja stared in shock at the Jotun's actions. Thor, however, turned red in the face, pulled back his fist, and landed a blow across the giant's cheek. Thrim flew backwards at the force of the blow, skidding to a halt on the floor. For a single minute, the guards, Freyja, Loki, and Thrim stared at Thor in surprise.

"Enough games, Jotun!" he shouted, ripping off the rest of the veil. "Where have you hidden Mjolnir?"

He raised his hand before him, palm open. Two seconds later, the hammer came crashing through a wall and fell into Thor's open hand. That was all it took to return the guards to their senses. Blades of ice formed in their hands as they charged.

"Splendid job, Thor," Loki called as he engaged the first Jotun. "Just brilliant."

Freyja ducked under the second Jotun and ran for the door where the sounds of more guards echoed into the room. With a quick incantation, she threw up a barrier of energy between herself and the oncoming Jotuns. She grimaced as they charged into it, the brute strength causing it to crack.

"We must leave now!" she called to her companions.

"Tell that to Thor," Loki replied as he dodged two different swords at once.

Thor seemed to be enjoying himself thoroughly as he fought his way through seven guards and Thrim. Freyja slid back a foot as her barrier moved under the pressure of the Jotuns. The silver barrier began to splinter until the entire surface was traced with lines.

"This isn't going to hold," she yelled.

"Move!" Loki yelled from behind her.

She spun out of the way just as a flash of green flew past her. The Jotuns behind the barrier flew back as the energy collided with them.

"Get Thor," she instructed as she threw the remaining guards against the walls with a flick of her wrist.

He nodded, running for Thor as she raced back the way they had come in. She could hear Thor arguing with Loki as the two ran behind her. Loki locked the door shut with magic as they sprinted across the snowy grounds.

"Heimdall!" Freyja yelled into the emptiness as they heard the door groaning behind them.

Just as the door broke, rays of multicolored lights raced down and enveloped them. There was the nauseating sensation of falling before the three found themselves lying on the floor of the Observatory. They stared in relief at the rounded ceiling, too surprised to move. Before Heimdall could address them, Freyja spoke up.

"Thor, you make a terrible woman," she announced.

Loki suddenly began to chuckle, amused at her words and the situation they had just escaped. Thor and Freyja joined in a second later, their combined laughter echoing off the walls. Heimdall looked apathetically at the trio, as they subsided.

"You retrieved your hammer," he said blankly.

"Yes," Thor said, standing up. "And now I'm off to retire for the evening."

He then walked out, leaving Freyja and Loki to quickly follow him after bidding Heimdall goodnight. Halfway down the Bifrost, Freyja sat down. Pulling Loki down next to her, the two laid on the crystal surface and looked up at the stars.

"What a night," she sighed, still slightly amused at their feat.

"Yes. Who knew we would accomplish such a task," he replied.

"No thanks to Thor. He forgot everything I told him as soon as we stepped foot in Thrim's hall."

"It would seem so," he said with a laugh. "He did you no justice."

"I cannot believe he ate an entire ox, eight salmon and three steins of mead," she shook her head in disbelief. "When have I ever consumed such a meal?"

"Never, as far as I can remember. What a tale this will make in the morning."

"The Warriors Three will chastise us for not allowing them to come."

"I suppose they will…"

Silence filled the air as the two replayed their actions of the night. It seemed surreal that it had all begun with Loki and Thor's argument that morning.

"How did Thrim even enter Asgard?" Loki asked aloud.

"There are more ways into Asgard than the Bifrost," she muttered, her eyes falling.

"Truly?"

"Yes. One would simply have to locate where the fabrics of the world wears thin. Slipping through such a chasm would be simple so long as one knew where to look."

"Hmm…"

"Loki?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

"Your stories are much more interesting."

"I prefer your voice."

He laughed at her reasoning, "Alright. Give me a minute…

"When the Nine Realms were still young, but after the Stars had retreated into the heavens, there were two beings called Sun and Moon."


	8. Chapter 7: Chemical Reactions

_**Song of the Chapter: Blinding ~ Florence + the Machine**_

* * *

_"I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee!_

_And yet when thou art absent I am sad;_

_And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,_

_Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad._

_I do not love thee!—yet, when thou art gone,_

_I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)_

_Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone_

_Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear._

_I know I do not love thee! Yet, alas!_

_Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;_

_And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,_

_Because they see me gazing where thou art."_

_ -"I Do Not Love Thee" by Caroline Norton_

* * *

Freyja knew something was different. She didn't know what or how she knew, but she could feel it. It had only been a few days since the Thrim incident but something had changed drastically, and it  
had something to do with Loki. Then again, most things had to do with Loki. He was the scapegoat for anything that went wrong in Asgard, but this was not something he had caused.

During her meals with Odin, Frigga, Loki, and Thor, she couldn't help but feel slightly uninterested in the conversation. Even Thor's teasing about her vegetarian diet only ringed a half-hearted reply from her. She often had Frigga dismiss her from the table by saying she felt unwell. Perhaps her constant bombardment of suitors was simply causing her to feel weary, she would tell herself. But she knew that wasn't fully true.

When she and Loki, who had become a sort of assistant in her classes, taught the many different students that passed through her halls, she found her heart wasn't in the teaching. However, she found it oddly interesting how well Loki interacted with the younger children. She often found herself gazing in his direction just to watch him persuade a disheartened child into trying once more. He always seemed to know exactly how to encourage them.

On the other hand, she did spend most of her spare time with Loki's children. She had come to almost think of them as her own as they came to her often. Fenrir had even asked if he could learn magic, along with Jormungand who wanted to learn his father's best tricks. Both had received the gift and were quickly on their way. Hel, however, had to wait for such a thing as she was still too young.

But Hel still won a place in Freyja's heart with her earnest demeanor. She had run into the girl one afternoon to find her crying. The village children had teased her for her appearance and Freyja had comforted her. When Freyja had changed her form ever so slightly to create the illusion that she shared Hel's condition, the young girl had completely taken to her. The three often came to her in the still of the night after nightmares. She would hold them close while either telling them a story or singing a lullaby in her language, all the while finding herself loving the children even more.

Loki had stated that he was glad his children had become close to Freyja, knowing that she watched over them carefully. She quickly found out that Thor and Loki doted on the children to the point of smothering them. She didn't shower them with gifts as their father and uncle did, but she gave them what they wanted in her own way. Loki often noted that she had become the mother-figure in their lives. Although Freyja took note of this, it wasn't until Hel asked her to be their new mother that the idea truly sunk in.

Freyja began to realize what was different when she, Loki and the children sat by a river one day and ate the small lunch they had packed. It was a pleasant day and Fenrir was determined to go out. Loki was just taking a drink of the water they had brought when Hel spoke up.

"Father, are you going to marry Freyja?"

Loki froze at the question, just as Freyja turned in shock. Both looked at the girl in surprise. Jormungand and Fenrir stopped their wrestling in the stream to listen. Freyja took the time to answer, as Loki seemed nowhere near ready.

"Why do you ask, Hel?"

The girl turned to her, "Father says he favors you to any and all the woman of Asgard. He says you make him laugh."

She smiled, "And those are the reasons one should marry?"

"I think so," Hel said with a thoughtful look. "When I am older, I will marry my best friend. That way, I will know he is good."

"People often do not marry their best friend, Hel," Loki told her.

"I see no reason not to marry Freyja, Father," Jormungand announced.

"I'm sure she does not wish for that," he said before she could answer, his voice too controlled.

"Why not?" he demanded. "Is it you or the marriage?"

"You do not pressure a woman into such matters," Loki said curtly, apparently not wanting to continue the discussion.

Freyja winced internally at his tone, wondering if the thought of marrying her was so repulsive in his eyes.

Fenrir looked at Freyja in a blunt fashion, "Would you marry Father if he asked?"

Freyja hesitated, truly unsure of her answer. Loki looked away, a frown on his face at her silence. It hurt that he would seem offended at the prospect, but she did not allow it to show. She looked at Hel who seemed to be begging silently.

"It matters not who I marry," she answered, choosing her words carefully. "I will always consider you family."

"I would not ask that of Freyja, anyway," Loki said in a chilled voice.

Freyja looked away, wishing he had kept such thoughts to himself. It was then that her thoughts stopped short as she realized where she was going with such notions. She realized that while she still considered him a friend, she longed for it to be something more. And that thought frightened her more than anything in her life.

Love had always been a subject broached with much caution in her family. Although her father had never outright said anything on the matter, both she and Freyr felt that Njord had spurned love after the death of their mother. He never showed emotion towards anyone and had never once shown Freyr or Freyja that he loved them. It was the reason both had stared in surprise when Frigga had told them she loved them as their own, which had caused both seven-year-olds to wonder what it must be like. And yet the idea of love still was rather unwelcome with their family.

Although Freyja was the goddess of love, it was only due to the fact that she openly welcomed everyone at first sight. She and her brother thought that it may be caused by the lack of such emotion in their own family, but they dismissed the idea quickly as neither wanted to linger over such thoughts. There were some things that even the siblings did not wish to speak of. It was this that caused Freyja to decide against talking to her brother about her situation. Instead, she went to Frigga.

When not inside her chambers or with her husband, Frigga often spent time tending to her garden which took the entire courtyard that dominated the castle grounds. It was there that Freyja hoped to find the Asgardian queen, though she knew she wouldn't be able to tell Frigga exactly what was troubling her. She didn't have the courage to outright tell Loki's own mother that she thought she was beginning to fall in love with him. She didn't have the courage to completely admit it to herself, much less to anyone else. So she thought through what she might say when the queen arrived.

"Freyja, dear, what a pleasant surprise," the familiar voice said from behind her.

She jumped, shaken from her thoughts, as she turned to face Frigga.

"Lady Queen, I was hoping to speak with you."

Frigga sat down beside her, "And what is it you wished to say?"

She took a deep breath, honestly wishing she had a better way of asking, "Before you were betrothed to the All-Father, was there a man in your life you considered a friend? I know you said you considered Odin a friend, but were there any others?"

"Yes. His name was Gveng, and he was the son of a friend of my mother's."

"Did you ever find yourself hoping for more between the two of you?"

"I always considered Gveng as a brother, but nothing more. Is there some reason you are asking?"

Freyja sighed, "I find myself wishing my companionship with a friend would grow to something…greater. I fear telling him this would ruin our friendship, so I ask for your advice in the matter."

Frigga smiled, thinking she knew exactly who Freyja was speaking of, "Well, perhaps words will not suffice in this situation."

"So I should remain silent?"

"No, he should know of your emotions. Instead of simply telling him, show him what he means to you."

Freyja thought about this, mulling it over in comparison to what she believed on the matter. She supposed it was worth a shot, as she couldn't think of another option, but she still feared the possible negative reaction.

"What if he does not think of me in such a way?" she asked, remembering Loki's words on the matter.

"Then you will have tried and it will longer trouble you. If he is truly your friend, he will not spurn you for such."

She smiled, regaining her bravery, "Thank you, Lady Queen, you have been most helpful."

"Please, call me Frigga. And you are very welcome."

Freyja stood up once more, "If you'll excuse me, I must speak to my father on such matters."

Frigga returned the smile, delighted that she could help, "Of course. Good luck, Freyja."

With a nod of thanks, Freyja walked briskly out of the garden and to the gates of the palace. Frigga, thinking that she had been speaking of Thor, immediately got up and began her search for Odin. She was not surprised when she found him, and her two sons, in the dining hall for dinner was soon to be served.

"I have excellent news," she said happily as she sat to Odin's right.

"And what would that be?" Odin asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Princess Freyja has chosen a suitor!"

Loki choked on his wine as he heard this, gaining everyone's attention. He stared at his mother in shock, not quite certain he had heard her correctly.

"She has never shown any interest in her suitors," he noted.

"Well," his mother said, her tone slightly apologetic. "He isn't a suitor, per se, but her father approved."

"Who?" Thor said with mild interest.

"She wouldn't say his name, but from the sound of it, he is a close friend."

Loki fiddled with his fork, "She has many close friends that are men."

"Yes, but few who her father approves of. Thor, I believe she has chosen you."

Loki's fingers slipped, causing him to accidentally bend the fork backwards. Thor stopped mid-bite, mouth still open as he held his slice of bread halfway up to his face. Odin smiled, giving Thor a sturdy pat on the back.

"Well done, Thor!"

Loki grit his teeth, wondering why Freyja would fall for a man such as Thor. She had always made it clear that she preferred a man who at least thought before he acted. What had caused her to change her mind? He glared at his plate, which the servant had placed before him, irritated at such. He had been hoping Freyja would find interest in him, as he had grown fonder of her. But, of course, Thor had taken what Loki had wanted, as per usual.

"When do you plan to ask for her hand?" Frigga asked.

Loki kept a calm mask over his anger as Thor stumbled for an answer.

"I don't. Why would I marry Freyja?"

Loki could name a hundred reasons, but he kept his mouth shut as Thor continued.

"Sure, she is quite beautiful and she has saved our lives countless times, but I would never think to marry her."

"Where is Freyja, while we're on the topic?" Odin asked suddenly.

"She has gone to Vanaheim to speak with her father on the matter."

"I suppose she would make a fine wife…" Thor said vacantly.

"And she will make an excellent queen when the time comes," his mother added cheerfully.

Loki could take no more of this. He stood up curtly, asked to be excused with a lie that he felt unwell, and left the room for his chambers. Slamming his door shut behind him, he paced for a couple minutes to calm down. Once his temper died down, he looked down at the painting of Angrboda on his nightstand. He sighed, thinking of how much her death had pained him. It still caused him grief when he looked at her picture, but he had found that Freyja could take his mind off of such matters. He had tried to find distractions before she returned, but his mistake in choosing Sigyn was one he regretted greatly. The woman still would leave subtle hints that she still wanted him.

His anger flared once more as he thought of Thor asking for Freyja's hand. Freya had always been _his _friend, _his_ companion, _his_ confidant, and now Thor was going to whisk her away from him. He didn't truly understand why he felt this way towards Freyja, but he knew when it had started. When Animi had been killed, Freyja had been heartbroken. It was seeing her in such pain that had triggered something. He never wanted to let anything hurt her in such a way again. Then, he had held her in his arms at the funeral and realized that he longed for such.

He greatly wanted to call her his own, to be able to know that she belonged to him and he to her. He would gladly die for her, as she had been the first person to actually come close to understanding him. If it were up to him, he would craft a ring, as was the tradition of Vanaheim, and ask for her hand himself. But he would never ask her of such, as he knew her thoughts on marriage. So he had stayed silent and dismissed such thoughts. Even when his children had broached the subject, he had refused to admit that he wanted nothing more.

He groaned in irritation, knowing is thoughts were getting him nowhere. Walking to his balcony, he decided he would simply wait for her return and ask her, subtly, what her thoughts were on Thor. He slid onto the golden surface of the railing, a habit he had gotten into after sitting with Freyja in the same manner. Looking towards the Observatory, he waited for the array of lights that would signal her return.

Unbeknownst to him, Freyja was having her own troubles with her father. The large quartz and titanium room in which her father usually conducted his business was full of servants and advisors bustling about. Everything went silent as she walked in, however. He father barely looked up from his papers, noting that she was still in her Asgardian form.

"May I speak with you in private?" she asked.

Njord raised his hand, gesturing for the rest to leave, and the many people inside rushed out. Freyja shut the door behind them, placing a silencing charm over the room as she did.

"What is so important that it demands you speak with me in person?" he asked blankly, returning to his papers.

"I have chosen a suitor."

"Oh? Who might it be?"

"He is Odin's son-"

"Prince Thor," he mused, picking up a quill. "I suppose I see your reasons. He is a brave man, strong, attractive-"

"I meant Loki," she said, wondering why he would have guessed Thor.

He stopped writing, looking up at her with apathetic eyes, "No."

"No?" she asked, taken aback by his quick answer. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I do not approve of such a union."

"You always told me I should marry an Asgardian to strengthen the bond between our two peoples. You were satisfied with Thor, what makes Loki any different? He is of noble birth and blood, what he lacks in strength he makes up for in intelligence, he has mastered magic, he knows our customs, he-"

"I said no, Freyja."

"Why?" she demanded. "What makes Loki any less qualified than half of the men you've sent my way? Give me one good reason and I will never speak of it again."

"He is of Jotun blood."

Any counter argument she had prepared left her mind with those five words. She knew it couldn't be true, but they could not lie. Of course, they could spread false truths if they had been lied to and believed it.

"You are sorely mistaken, Father. Loki is Asgardian."

"You are allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment. He is Laufey's son, stolen by Odin after he was abandoned for being sickly. Think, Freyja. On all of his journeys, he has never once complained of cold while his companions shiver from the winds. He mastered manipulation of water at age fourteen, an astonishing feat for one so young."

"He does not bare the Jotun's attributes," she argued, losing faith the more she thought of it.

"Odin was able to use the limited magics he obtained to conceal the boy's true nature. There is no denying it. As our laws clearly state, you cannot marry him as he is neither of our race nor the Asgardians. I tolerate your friendship with him, but nothing more. I suggest you look to Thor or Odr for better prospects."

Before she could think of a good reply, she answered him without a thought, "No."

He once again stopped his scribbling and looked up, "What did you say?"

"I said no. I asked for a logical reason, you gave me an empty one. I will not look to Thor, nor to any other man."

"You cannot marry him."

"No, Father. I can, I simply cannot bare his children. There is no law against marrying a man of the other races, simply creating halflings. I, quite frankly, don't care that Loki is Jotun by blood. I know him, and he is better than all of my suitors combined. If he'll have me, I will not turn him away."

"If he'll have you? The boy has not even made his intentions clear and still you persist? What leads you to believe that he will even ask for your hand?"

"Nothing causes me to think this. I simply must state my thoughts and hope for the best."

"Hope? Hope will not save you! If you wish to defy your own people, then do so. But remember that if you do so, you do so alone. I warn you now, Freyja, do not pursue the boy. I swear to the Wise One, you will regret it."

"You've never supported me!" she yelled suddenly, years of oppression finally cracking her content façade.

He stared at her in silence, allowing her to continue.

"Do you know just how much it hurts to think of all I have done just to please you? All my life, I have attempted to be the perfect daughter you expected of me. I have allowed myself to sit idly and watch as you dictate my life. I was driven to the point where I would marry a man who thought me no more than a friend just for your sake! I have slaved tirelessly for your approval until I have lost myself in the act. And what do I receive in return? Your perpetually dissatisfied expression and you telling me that, not even once in my life, I cannot have what pleases me!

"When have I ever asked you of anything? When have I ever disagreed with your rulings before now? When have I ever told you no in the past? I have allowed you to manipulate me as one does a marionette. I have sacrificed my own happiness for your approval, a task which is impossible to succeed in! All I have ever wanted was for you to accept me, to support me, to want me to be happy. But I see that you don't want that. Forgive me, Father, but I will not be your puppet any longer."

She took a breath, fighting back the years of memories that she had dredged up in her ranting. Hoping he would reply, she waited. When he said nothing, she hid her crushed hopes of him actually arguing. It would have at least been a sign that he cared what she thought, but he had proved her otherwise.

"I see there is no further use in attempting to persuade you. I should have never returned here in the first place. I hoped you better than this, but I can see I was wrong. How foolish of me. I won't waste anymore of your time today."

With that, she turned on her heels and walked out of the palace. Night had fallen but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Heimdall," she called to the skies. "Open the Bifrost, please."

There was the sickening sensation as the energy used in the Bifrost washed over her. She barely registered it with the disgust she already felt, both at her father and herself. When her surroundings solidified, she nodded thanks to Heimdall and set off for the quiet plains she knew lay east of the city. She needed the quiet to think and to correct herself.

As she ran, she vaguely noted that it was storming, a sign that Thor was irate. She couldn't seem to pay much attention to it, as she felt someone suddenly had thrown her in freezing waters. She realized that all her life she had been lying to herself, silently telling herself that her Father loved her. What was worse than the lie, though, was the fact that she had begun to believe it.

When she finally reached the empty hollow, she found she had no clue why she had walked there. Lightning cracked across the sky like a whip, causing her to tilt her head to the skies. She had been asleep to the world, dreaming of something better, but now she was awake. It had taken Loki to shatter the illusion she had built around her, and now she felt it. Tears ran down her face as she stared in the direction of Vanaheim. No one knew where Vanaheim was, except for the Vanir and Heimdall. And even Heimdall could not see what happened there, as he only knew where it lay in relation with the other worlds.

She had been so wrong…

"Freyja!" a familiar voice called from behind her, shattering her thoughts.

She didn't bother turning around, unable to face him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, attempting to gain her attention.

"You shouldn't have followed me," she whispered. "The night is cold, and the rain relentless."

"It is not as cold as you say," he answered, reminding her of his true heritage. "Besides, you should not be out in this weather."

"I wished to be alone."

"What ails you? What has hurt you so?" he asked as he noticed her tears.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, "My father wishes me to marry Odr. But I have no love for him. My heart belongs to another man."

"And your father does not approve of this man?"

"No," she cried, her pitch grew higher as the words left her lips faster. "I do not wish to marry a man I feel no love towards. I do not want to be forced into a marriage. But I do not want to disappoint Father, either. To have to marry a man simply because he is wealthy enough is foolish! I won't! No one can make me!"

"Freyja," he said, turning her around so that he could look her in the eye. "No one will make you marry a man you do not love. I won't permit it."

She shook her head, "I owe it to my people, but I do not want to do this."

"Then you won't. You know I would support you in any matter."

She hesitated, wondering if he would support what she felt if he knew. He gazed at her, looking for a sign that she was listening. She nodded in reply.

"Then cease your weeping. It does naught to cry in isolation," he whispered, wiping away her tears. "Now, why does your father not approve of this man?"

Fear flashed in her eyes and she knew she couldn't tell him without hurting him. Instead, she stuck to a half-truth as he would accept it more easily.

"For a reason so folly, it tears me apart."

"Who is this man? Do I know him?"

She hesitated, not wanting to say it, "Yes."

He inhaled sharply, "How well do I know this man?"

"You have known him your whole life," she said truthfully.

"Tell me," he hissed, his voice pained. "Please."

_He should know of your emotions. Instead of simply telling him, show him what he means to you._

The words played over in her head as she took a deep breath. She knew she couldn't tell him, so she took Frigga's advice. She leaned in, kissing him softly on his lips. A gasp escaped his lips before he pulled her closer to him. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, winding them tightly as if she was afraid he would disappear if she didn't hold onto him. She slowly pulled back, hesitating, afraid of his rejection.

"I never knew," he breathed in surprise.

"Forgive me for my rash actions," she pleaded, hoping to salvage whatever they could have. "I should not have done so. I hope our friendship can persist, if you do not return my feelings."

He smirked suddenly, "I, too, have a woman who holds my heart."

She looked away, ashamed at her actions when he already loved someone else, "Oh. I'm sorry."

He leaned in, kissing her on the lips. He barely brushed her skin before he backed away again, leaving her more than surprised.

"I was afraid you would spurn my love if you knew," he explained.

She smiled, her expression bitter-sweet, "My father does not approve."

"Why should he not? Am I not worthy?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer, "You are worthy in my eyes. That is all that matters."

"No one must know," he sighed.

"Then no one will know, especially my father. I will not have him tear us apart."

He smiled once more, "I will not let them force you to be something that you are not. I will not lose you to their whims."

She looked up at him hopefully, relieved that he returned her feelings, "Thank you."

He pulled her close once more, burying his face in her curls before whispering, "I will not let you lose yourself. I promise."


	9. Chapter 8: Unspoken Desires

_**Hi guys! Sorry this took so long to write, I wasn't sure how to start it. Odr is acting strange for a reason, you will find out why later. Sorry if Loki seems a bit OOC but this *is* before he found out about being a Jotun and decided to take a dive of sanity cliff so that sort of explains the difference. By the way, though it is implied, there is no sexually explicit content in this book. If I get enough comments requesting it, I may write what happens in a seperate book so that the readers who don't want to read it don't have to. The music for the celebration is somewhat a mix between Fever Ray and Florence + the Machine, or that's how I imagined it. That's pretty much it. I hope you enjoy! :)**_

_**P.S.: There's a continuation of this chapter in "Lost Tales of Asgard". It's the latest update.**_

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_"If you could only see the beast you've made of me. I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free. Screaming in the dark; I howl when we're apart, drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart. The fabric of your flesh feels like a wedding dress. Until I wrap myself inside your arms, I cannot rest. The saints can't help me now; the ropes have been unbound. I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallowed ground and howl. Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers, it starts so soft and sweet but turns them to hunters."_

_ -Florence Welch_

* * *

Freyja had enjoyed the last month of her and Loki's little games. As no one could know there was anything greater than friendship between them, including the all-seeing Heimdall, they had decided to test the boundaries of what they could and could not get away with. They had explored how many nights they could steal, which empty hallways could become their haunts, and just what could be said in public. With Loki's help, she had altered a spell to create projections that could be manipulated as marionettes while they snuck away under invisibility until they were out of sight. Although Loki had explained his disbelief at fooling Heimdall, he had been thoroughly impressed with the net of illusion she could weave that kept their more intimate actions from his sight.

All in all, it had been an entertaining month. Although they had kept their actions relatively chaste, Freyja still found she was enjoying herself more than before. Loki enjoyed surprising her with highly subtle gifts that only she knew the origin of. He was meticulously careful not to leave any sign that the gifts were from him. At first, it was simply unique flowers that he had altered through magic. Aileth was both surprised and pleased that Freyja had an admirer who actually sent gifts rather than attempted to have her join them for dinner or some other trivial meeting.

But Loki didn't stop with the flowers. He then sent gifts based purely on his abilities such as notes that transformed into miniature birds, dragons, deer, and other creatures that lived for a few days before disappearing completely. Occasionally, he would send little clockwork contraptions that seemed to stem from his imagination. A few copper and silver creatures that slithered like centipedes or flew like hummingbirds. Her favorite was the little girl figurine that danced when the emotions in the room were lively.

However, Loki's gifts were far from secret. Though no one knew it was the youngest Asgardian prince who sent them, rumors spread through Asgard of the clandestine suitor who sent gifts that made the Vanaheim princess smile. Many attempted to guess just who the sender was, but none spoke their ideas louder than a whisper. Loki found this highly amusing.

There were, occasionally, a few unfortunate times during that month, such as when she was forced to at least meet with her other suitors. Most were easy to deflect, but one man seemed Hel-bent on winning her over: Odr. Odr was, by far, Freyja's least favorite suitor. He was as duplicitous as a two-headed snake and twice as repulsive. Although he was entirely unpleasant when around her, he could create a mask of charm and refinement within a matter of seconds. It was in this way that he had won over Freyja's father, becoming a perfect gentleman when the two weren't alone.

And so Freyja found herself walking towards Odr's hall one sunny morning to see if she could end his pursuit. She had begun to near her limits with him when Loki had come to her chambers the night after their first kiss, bruised and bloody from a brawl with the man. Although she had hidden her disgust that night, she had quietly begun planning how to tell him that he had a Frost Giant's chance in Muspellheim of winning her hand. She wouldn't say it so bluntly but she wasn't going to be gentle as she was with the other, more agreeable, suitors.

The street wasn't as crowded as it usually was, allowing Freyja to wind her way through the sporadic crowds without accidentally running into anyone. The same couldn't be said for others running into her, however. As she continued down the street, a tall and familiar someone apparently attempted to stop but failed as he toppled into her. With a gasp of surprise, she fell backwards and the box of Ottar's pastries she had been bringing for Odr's handmaid fell to the floor. She looked up to see Loki attempting to right himself quickly.

He grabbed the now dented box of sweets, pulled Freyja to her feet, handed her the box and whispered, "Sorry about that, love."

"Loki? What in-"

"Can't talk now," he said with a glance behind him. "I'll explain later."

And with that, he took off once more. She watched as he ran through the crowds, barely recognizing the sound of people running behind her. She just barely jumped out of the way as Thor barreled through the spot she had been standing in, face red in anger.

"Stop running, coward, and face the wrath of Thor!" he yelled as he chased after Loki.

Another person, this time a palace guard, followed closely as he called, "Prince Loki!"

"Master Loki, stop!" a servant called, attempting to keep up with the guard and Thor.

A spindly woman in her later years followed, brandishing knitting needles as she cried out in indignation, "You owe me eighty silvers! Fish don't simply fall from the sky!"

A little girl of about eight ran as fast as she could after the five people before her, "My dolly!"

Freyja watched, glued to her spot, as the line of people chased after Loki. Although the sight was vaguely amusing, she wondered just what Loki had gotten himself into and how exactly everyone played a role in it. Shaking her head with a smile, she fixed the box with magic and continued on her way.

Odr's home was about three hundred paces outside the little town on a large piece of moorlands. It was a beautiful hall of silver-etched stone with a few gemstone windows. Freyja adored the scenery, but the man who lived on the grounds dimmed its appeal. When she knocked on the thick, wooden door, Drott, Odr's handmaid, opened it with a smile.

"Lady Princess, the Master was not expecting you this morning," she said, glancing into the house nervously.

"Tell him his mistress can surely wait while I speak my piece," Freyja replied. "Also, these are for you."

"Thank you, my Lady. I shall put them in the cupboard immediately."

"For you, Dott, nor Odr," she corrected kindly. "Keep them under the loose floorboards next to your cot and he will never find them."

Drott's blue eyes widened slightly as she pushed a stray hair behind her ear, "Yes, ma'am. I will attend to it now. Why don't you wait in the parlor while I wake the Master."

Freyja walked in as Drott closed the door behind her. The young girl made her way to her room, no doubt to hide the pastries, before hopping up the stairs to wake Odr. Freyja made herself comfortable in a burgundy satin and mahogany chair, waiting for their return. She knew that Odr was probably still sleeping in, tired from his latest conquest. For a man who was set on winning her over, he enjoyed the company of many other women.

Odr's arrival was announced with his loud footsteps hitting the wooden stairs, followed by Drott's quiet gait. He wore nothing but leather trousers, trying to show off his muscled chest as if she would swoon at the sight. Freyja remained unaffected as she had found, one afternoon while swimming, that she preferred Loki's thin but chiseled torso to the usual oxen-like men Asgard held. She found that most Asgardians looked as though they could snap her in half, a quality that was not appealing. Odr allowed his lips to curl into a semi-pleasant smile.

"Princess Freyja, to what do I owe this surprise?"

"I wished to personally inform you that I am no longer accepting suitors."

"So you've come to tell me you've accepted my proposal," he said smugly.

Freyja bit back a smile, "In reality, Odr, I have decided not to choose any of my suitors."

"What?" he demanded, pausing to think before he continued. "Forgive me, Princess, but I'm afraid I don't grasp your meaning."

"After much consideration, I have decided that none of my suitors are appealing to me."

"You're planning to postpone any arrangements for a marriage?"

"I plan not to marry, at all," she clarified.

"I see," he said through gritted teeth. "And what has led you to this decision?"

"Many circumstances that you would not understand."

"As a man?"

"As a manner-less pig," she said, no longer willing to keep silent.

"Excuse me?"

"Odr, you have the tact of drunkard. If you truly wanted me for your own, you would have made a greater effort. Throughout your ridiculous courtship you have never so much as asked about me personally, you've taken far too many liberties, you've spread filthy lies about our meetings and you've bedded more women than I can count. Quite honestly, just how did you believe you'd win me over?"

"What haven't I done for you, you ungrateful wench?" he snapped.

"Temper, Odr. I'm surprised you've managed to win as many women as you have. You have nothing to offer."

"Come up to bed with me and I shall show you what I have to offer," he half-snarled.

"You're offer holds no appeal," she answered, not allowing his tone to gain her worry. "Besides, I am not inexperienced as the others. I doubt you would be able to interest me in any way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be going."

"So you are not as pure as all claim you to be," he mused as she walked towards the door. "And yet it makes you all the more alluring."

"It seems you will never live out your fantasy," she answered coolly, leaving before he had time to say anything else.

She was surprised at Odr's eclectic behavior towards her news. It didn't seem to fit what she knew of him. Something about the entire meeting seemed off. Unable to guess what it might have been, she shrugged it off and made her way back to the palace. She had to prepare for the festivities that would come with the night.

It was the Night of the Wolf and Freyja had always enjoyed the celebration. In Asgard, the Vanir and Light Elves that made their home in the Realm Eternal came together to enjoy a night of drinks, dances, music and laughter. Although the Elves did not celebrate the Night itself, they refused to pass up an excuse to spend their time at a celebration.

When she returned to her chambers in the castle, she knew she wasn't alone. Walking through the door which led from her sitting room and library to her bedchamber and washroom, she found Loki lying on her bed with his head resting on his hands as he looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't recognize the constellations you have painted on your ceiling," he said as she walked in. "Are they visible only in Vanaheim?"

"Yes. Those are the constellations I could see from my chambers in Vanaheim," she answered as she sat down next to him.

"Why is it you live here if you miss your home so greatly?"

"Occasionally, I feel as if I am a stranger in Vanaheim. Though I miss it, I do not miss the feeling of being misplaced."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm unsure of how to describe it. It is as if I don't quite belong there. Besides, I don't enjoy the constriction of our lifestyle."

"And you feel more comfortable here?"

She nodded, "It is not quite home, but neither is Vanaheim. I do not feel completely comfortable in either."

He frowned thoughtfully, looking up at the painted stars as if he couldn't quite see them.

"By the way, do tell me why you had Thor, a guard, a servant, an elderly shopkeeper, and a young girl chasing after you this morning."

He laughed, expression light once more, "Now _that_ is an incredible story that involved a crossbow, a hat, a porcelain doll, Mjolnir, and a barrel of fish."

Freyja tried to comprehend just how all of those fit together, then decided just to stop, "On second thought, I don't think I want to know…"

She could feel his amusement rolling off him in waves, "Why? Afraid of what you'll hear?"

"Possibly," she admitted. "But do tell me why you are in here, not that it isn't a pleasant surprise."

"The younger prince of Asgard waiting for you in your bed?" he asked in a suggestive tone. "Let's hope none of your chambermaids find out. What a scandalous rumor it would make…"

She rolled her eyes at his line of thoughts, "It might be if you were not fully clothed in armor as well as your daywear. You still haven't answered."

"I wanted to speak with you."

"On what?"

He sat up, crossing his long legs as he did, "Tonight is the Night of the Wolf, is it not?"

"Yes, as you very well know."

He chuckled, "Must you ruin my fun? As I was saying, tonight is the Night of the Wolf and I know for a fact that you celebrate it here. The festivities take place in the woods, but one can only find it if invited by a Vanir."

"You want to go?" she asked, surprised at his roundabout way of asking.

"I've never been to a Vanaheim celebration," he explained.

"Why is it that you're so curious about our ways?"

"Knowledge is power. Besides, very few people know anything of your race."

"So it is curiosity that drives you," she sighed. "It is a very peculiar festival to those who are not Vanir or Elves."

"I'm sure I can handle the unorthodox aspects."

"Many will not speak your language."

"I speak your native tongue fluently, and you can translate for the Elves."

"There will not be Asgardian meals or drink."

"I can manage a night of experimentation."

"You do not know how to dance our-"

"Freyja," he said, cutting her off. "If you do not wish for me to come, all you need do is say so."

"I do wish for you to come, Loki."

"Then why are you attempting to dissuade me?"

She looked away, blushing in embarrassment.

"Freyja, love, what is it?"

"There will be many men there…"

"And?"

She sighed, knowing there was no way around it, "And there is a high chance we may meet a few of my old lovers."

Silence followed, causing Freyja to wonder what he was thinking. She felt his slight sense of betrayal as neither of them used mental barriers when alone.

"Did you not say you have never been in love before?"

"I did," she nodded.

"Why do I feel as if there is a piece of this story missing?"

"When I reached seventeen, I received a letter from a friend in Vanaheim who was in love. As goddess of love, I wanted to experience such for myself. I longed for everything she told me of, so I went in search of it."

She paused, attempting to tell what he was thinking. He simply gazed at her with a guarded expression.

"I allowed myself many lovers from Alfheim, Vanaheim, and Midgard. On my search, I discovered lust, passion, sensuality and desire but never love. Within two years, I gave up my search and have not taken another into my bed since. Forgive me if I led you to believe that I am a maiden."

His silence was beginning to frighten her, as he always had something to say. Instead, he watched her through empty eyes. She could tell he was thinking over what she had said.

"Please say something," she said, forcing her voice to stay even.

He suddenly smiled, grin widening as his eyes seemed to focus, "What is there to say? And here I thought I would be the one to corrupt you."

He laughed at his thoughts, causing Freyja to look at him in confusion. She hadn't expected such a reaction from him.

"I thought you preferred women who are pure," she muttered as he laughed.

"That would be Thor," he noted when he managed to stop. "Besides, I have three children and once welcomed lovers just as you did. You don't mind either, and so I cannot begrudge you a few lovers."

She decided not to correct him, leaning into him instead. Most Asgardian men wouldn't accept such a fact and yet he seemed to amuse him.

"Do answer me this, though: you have told me that lovers are frowned upon among your people and yet you say you had lovers in Vanaheim. How exactly do those two fit together?"

"I said lovers amongst married couples are frowned upon, not lovers among those who have yet to tie themselves to a single being."

"Hmm…"

She glanced up at him ever so slightly, mock defeat on her face, "You'll need to wear something that will not restrict your movement. That means no armor."

"I may accompany you?"

"Yes. And might I suggest as little leather as possible, as well."

"No leather and no metal. What am I to wear?"

"A loose silk shirt and some form of fabric trousers. Can you honestly not dress yourself?"

"I know not of what is expected of me."

She stood up and walked towards the vanity table near the balcony doors. Pulling out a silver pendant, she tossed it to Loki. He examined the four-pointed star as she closed the drawer and walked back.

"What is it?"

"It will help you find your way to the glade. Follow the gold-tipped point and you should find it."

"Am I not to arrive with you?"

"As Princess of Vanaheim, I must arrive early. You, however, must arrive a little after the festivities have begun."

"Fashionably late," he muttered as she pulled him up and led him to the door. "And what must I do?"

"Simply arrive an hour after sunset and I will tell you what you need to know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must prepare."

"As you wish," he said with a smile before closing the door behind him. "Until tonight…"

With Loki out of her chambers, she rushed towards the armoire in search of a new gown. She had originally picked out an olive-toned dress but now she felt as if the night called for something greater. As she ran her fingers over the smooth material of the various gowns, she allowed her eyes to glance at her bed.

Closing the armoire, Freyja kneeled at the foot of her bed and placed her palm against the wood as she muttered an incantation. A hidden drawer opened with a click and she moved over the relics she kept of her family to reveal a folded gown. Pulling it out, she inspected the dress in a silent argument. It had been her mother's and she had kept it simply because it was the same gown worn in the portrait of Van that hung in the Vanaheim palace.

With a smile, she decided that it was the perfect dress for that night.

* * *

Loki looked down with utter dismay at the little silver star Freyja had given him right before noon. He had been following the gold-tip, which occasionally spun this way and that, for an hour and yet he had not reached the glade. Was there a way to use such a simple device wrong?

It was well past sunset and the only light came from the full moon and the green flames flickering in his left hand. He pulled at his thin green shirt he wore, wishing he hadn't picked something so loose. He had decided on wearing an untucked, emerald silk shirt with long sleeves, an angular collar and a slit down the center which was held closed by the leather cord paired with black leather trousers and his knee-height boots. Despite retaining some aspects of his usual garb, the lack of layers and armor felt foreign to him. He wondered if the Vanir, who usually dressed in such a manner, always felt underdressed and bare.

He looked up in the direction the star was pointing, but saw nothing except darkness and more trees. As he continued forward, he felt the change in the atmosphere as the air seemed to crackle with power, the tell-tale sign of magic. He stopped, staring at the space before him. Recalling what Freyja had taught him of concealment charms, he focused on the scene before him. The dark forest seemed to slowly peel away to reveal a large meadow lit by hanging lanterns. Laughter and otherworldly music now filled the forest.

He pocketed the star with a smile, wondering just how many times he had passed his destination without realizing it. As he walked through the last trees, he listened to the strange mix of bells, drums, horns and other strange instruments he couldn't name. Both Light Elves and Vanir alike twirled around in a strange dance that seemed to have little structure. If he looked closely, some of the forms seemed slightly suggestive. The air was filled with the smell of spices and Vanaheim ale, igniting Loki's curiosity. Traditional Vanaheim meals were never served in Asgard and he wondered what new flavors he would encounter.

A flash of teal and crimson caught his eyes and he quickly recognized Freyja. She wore a dress of a simmering silken material that resembled running water as she danced with a red-haired elf. The material seemed to cling to the base of her neck and the whole of her torso but left her shoulders bare before flaring out at her waist, turning from teal to ultramarine as it fell. Sheer, detached trumpet sleeves adorned her arms, splaying around her when she twirled as if she was veiled in smoke. The muse pendant lay on her chest, shining against the paleness of the dress.

She kicked her leg high as her partner spun to the right, her skirt parting slightly to reveal pale blue slippers and the pale skin of her calf. As the music reached a crescendo, she flipped herself over his shoulders as he held her waist. Spinning her around him, Loki could hear her warm laughter. The song ended as her partner dipped her low and brought her back up. He bowed, kissing her hand before leaving.

Freyja smiled as she saw him, waving him forward. He wove his way through the dancing couples, trying to keep from staring at the more erotic styles. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. A few couples were kissing passionately while they could, breaking away to continue their shameless flirting.

"You're late," Freyja said, causing Loki to tear his gaze away from two young women enjoying each other's embrace.

"You never said it was hidden with magic," he explained, gazing at the madness.

"How else would we keep such a celebration hidden?"

"I suppose you have a reason to. Isn't this a bit…improper?"

"Perhaps to an Asgardian," she laughed. "Come. I'm in need of a drink."

He followed her to a table full of strange meals on plates and platinum goblets. As they made their way through the crowds, a white-haired elven man looked him up and down before winking with a grin. His eyes widened in surprise, causing Freyja to laugh once more.

"He thought you were handsome," she said, picking up a goblet.

"I'd prefer it if he hadn't."

"Whatever is the matter, Loki? Not interested in Elves?"

"Not when they are men."

She grinned, taking a drink of the dark liquid.

"What is the story behind this celebration, anyway?"

"Well, after we gave Asgard to your people, we spent many months searching for a new home. We came across Vanaheim, a world populated by elemental spirits and a race we call the Wolves. These Wolves were like us, spiritual and able to shape-shift, though only from man to wolf. They allowed us the lands that were not wooded and we soon settled.

"However, this was before the Æsir-Vanir war so we had yet to separate from the rest of the Realms. The Frost Giants, who were closest to us, soon invaded to take the land. Our armies were slaughtered by the Jotuns and their beasts. In search for aid, we went to the Queen of the Wolves, her name has been long since forgotten but we call her the she-wolf.

"With the help of her warriors, we were able to drive out the Jotuns, block the paths between our two worlds, and gain our freedom. That night, Vanir and Wolves alike held a celebration under the full moon. And so, in memory of our saviors, we hold the same celebration every year. It is a time when we are allowed to free ourselves from our restrictions and begin anew."

He nodded, now understanding just why it seemed so chaotic.

"Why is it that the dancing is provocative in such a way?"

"It is another aspect of the legend. For one night, we allow our spirituality to mix with our carnal desires."

"That explains the Vanir but not the Elves," he pointed out.

"What Elf do you know of that would allow the opportunity for such a night to slip away?"

He nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye as she looked him up and down.

"Dance with me, Loki," she implored, gazing up at his face with her bright blue eyes.

He frowned with furrowed brows, "In such a manner?"

"Why not?"

He set his chin stubbornly, but allowed himself to think over the idea of himself dancing with Freyja in such a way. It seemed none of the guests had recognized him, as he rarely left the castle, but it seemed slightly wrong. He took a goblet of his own, entertaining the thought of pulling Freyja close as the others did, dancing as if there was no one around to see.

It only took a few steins before he allowed Freyja to drag him out to the crowd. The song had taken a turn to a darker tune and seemed to tell a story without words of desires not spoken of. Freyja did not hold back as she twirled and swayed around him. As he placed his hands on her waist, she bent backwards ever so slowly, her hips leaning into his. She pulled up, grinning at his raised eyebrows.

He spun her around, her back to his chest, as he ran his lips up her neck. He noticed her hair smelled of wildflowers and the ocean breeze as he traced his way up her chin. She suddenly turned in his arms, swaying into him. She hooked her left leg around his waist as she ran her fingers through his hair. She leaned her head back, rolling it over her shoulders.

Loki forgot the others dancing as he leaned into her, tracing the muscles of her lean neck with his tongue. A surprised moan her lips as her nails dug into the base of his skull. He growled against her skin, losing himself in the moment. Allowing his hands to wander up her back to her shoulders, he pulled her closer.

Though he lowered his head to meet her lips, it was she who closed the distance. Her lips burned against his, as if she were made of fire and he of ice. The tip of her tongue ran over his bottom lip, asking for entrance, and he obliged. His hands wandered over the soft material of her dress as their tongues fought for dominance. Pulling away slightly, he grinned at her flushed cheeks.

"Perhaps we should find somewhere with a little more privacy," he whispered into her ear.

"Hold on," she breathed back, holding the pendant in her hand as she closed her eyes.

There was a small flash of light and Loki realized they were back in her bedchamber.

"I'm impressed. Now, where were we?"

She rolled her eyes before leaning up towards him once more. He began to trail kisses up her jawline, sucking on the tender flesh at its base. With steady fingers, she began to untie the leather cord on his shirt. He took a second to pull the shirt over his head and toss it to the floor before returning to his self-assigned task. She took his hands in hers as she guided them to the tie on the back of her dress. He stiffened in surprise, unsure if he should continue.

"Stop to think about this, love," he whispered, his voice slightly shaky.

"I have," she replied as she kissed his bare chest. "And I believe I've finally found what I've been searching for."

"Freyja," he warned half-heartedly.

"I've decided what I want, Loki. The only question I have now is: do _you_ want this, too?"

He took her face in his hands, searching for any sign of second thoughts. Seeing nothing of the sort in her eyes, he smiled.

"There is nothing I want more."

* * *

Loki awoke to sunlight shining into the room through familiar curtains. He sat up, attempting to remember all that had transpired within the night. Freyja, who was now wearing her white chemise from the night before, stood by the crystal door which led to her balcony, looking out onto the city below. He stood up slowly, tying the pale blue sheet around his waist, and walked towards her. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he kissed the base of her neck softly.

"Good morning, love. How was your night?" he asked softly, wondering what she had thought.

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, "Unexpected."

"In a good way?"

"Perhaps," she gave him a sly look and he grinned, knowing he his answer.

"What is that you're eating?" he asked, his face turning serious.

"Bird's Nest."

He closed his eyes, mentally reprimanding himself for not thinking of the consequences of their night, "I am an extraordinary fool. The idea did not occur to me that-"

"It doesn't matter," she said, her voice calm. "It occurred to me. Besides, I would not take back my actions."

He smiled again, "I would not either. In fact, I just might be tempted to do such again at this very moment."

She gasped in surprise as he scooped her up and carried her back to the bed. She laughed when he placed her in the center, kneeling over her teasingly. He leaned down, kissing her softly.

"Freyja, I know the hour is early but I have great news and-"

Both froze in shock as Thor walked in through her door, beaming as if it was his birthday. He cut himself off when he saw his younger brother leaning over his friend in a most suggestive way. For two minutes, none of them spoke a word, but stared in horror at each other.

"Well," Thor said finally. "Seems Mother was wrong…"


	10. Chapter 9: Lies in the Truth

_"If you truly want honesty, don't ask questions you don't really want the answer to."_

_ -Proverb_

* * *

Freyja stared at Thor in confusion, trying to comprehend his meaning, while Loki let out a low chuckle.

"Thor, why are in my bedchamber?" she asked, finally coming to her senses.

"I came to deliver news, but I see that you are currently occupied," he muttered, staring at his brother who was still only wearing the sheet.

"Honestly, brother," Loki said with a grin, "I have warned you many times to knock before entering a room, lest you see something you wish you hadn't."

"Exactly how long have you two been – when did this begin?"

"A month ago," Freyja answered, but Loki spoke at the same time.

"The night after Mother told us Freyja had chosen a suitor," he replied calmly.

Thor looked from Loki, to Freyja, and back to his brother as if still trying to determine whether he was hallucinating or not.

"Well, this is a relief," he sighed, tucking something back into his shirt. "Shall I tell Mother and Father the good news?"

"No!" they both shouted, scrambling off the bed.

"You don't wish to tell them of the plans?"

"There's nothing to tell," Loki hissed.

He looked at them in surprise, "But I was led to believe-"

"My father does not approve of Loki," Freyja explained. "But I cannot simply let go."

"Your father knows nothing of this?"

"Not a hint."

He looked at Loki with what seemed to be pity, "King Njord is going to skin you alive and feed you to the dragons."

"Only if you tell anyone," Loki pointed out.

"You want me to keep it from them?"

"Thor, if my father catches wind of this, he'll personally drag me back to Vanaheim and force me to marry whoever happens to be the most worthy in his eyes," Freyja said, hoping that he would listen. "I beg of you, do not condemn me to such a fate."

He glanced at his brother before returning his gaze to meet her desperate eyes, giving a sigh of resignation.

"You have my word. I will not tell a soul of this."

Freyja exhaled in relief, but Loki apparently still had a question he wanted to ask.

"Don't leave just yet, brother. You've yet to deliver Freyja her news."

"Ah," Thor said stiffly, looking everywhere but at their faces. "It is of no importance."

"And yet you barged into her room, completely unannounced, just after dawn? It must have held some weight."

He tossed something small onto the bed, turning to walk out so that they wouldn't notice his embarrassment, "That should answer your question. I must leave now."

Freyja walked back to the bed while Loki watched his brother leave. Amongst the blankets lay a small silvery ring. It looked as if Thor had attempted to forge it himself, leaving it rather lopsided. Reaching down to pick it up, she snatched her fingers back with a hiss as her skin brushed against the cold metal.

"Iron," she cursed, looking down at her blistered fingers. "Of all the mistakes he could have made, he chooses to forge an engagement ring crafted from the one metal that burns us."

Loki picked up the ring as she healed her fingertips, "At least he attempted to forge it himself."

She watched as he pocketed the lump of metal with a grin, "What about this situation amuses you?"

"For once in my life, I have managed to obtain something before Thor."

"Something?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "So I am a possession now?"

"If I said yes, you would turn me into a tea cozy, would you not?"

She laughed, losing all seriousness in the moment. It was always this way with Loki. He would cause the atmosphere to become light-hearted when it became too solemn for his taste. It made him impossible to stay irate with him. But that was what she loved the most, his ability to make her smile.

* * *

Being Princess of a Realm often meant being locked up inside a royal palace with nothing to do for most of the day. As Freyja was never one for constriction, she often filled her days with either teaching or running around the villages doing whatever tickled her fancy at the time. A week after her and Loki's problem of Thor, this just so happened to be shopping with Ottar.

Though the royal cooks were able to order ingredients to arrive straight to the kitchens, Ottar enjoyed finding the rare oddity that could be spied in the markets. He had an amusing habit of concocting delicious creations out of the most peculiar items. She often brought him different fruits and spices from the garden Loki had given her, causing him to run around the kitchens in a fit of overenthusiasm. It was quite the sight to behold.

He picked up a handful of small amber berries as he inspected them, "Freyja, you've been to Midgard. Are these truly 'cloudberries' from the Realm of humans?"

She examined them from where she stood, "Yes. But I suggest you find a few that are slightly overripe. When fresh, they are a bit tart. If you buy these, you'll want to wait a few days for them to sweeten."

"You are truly lucky to have journeyed to so many realms. I'd give my right arm to see what delicacies grow in Alfheim and Midgard."

"You would need both arms in order to use such delicacies," she noted with a smile.

A thoughtful look crossed his face, "I suppose you're right…"

She bit back a laugh at his disheartened tone, "Do not worry. Perhaps I will take you one day."

"Truly?" he looked at her in surprise.

"Of course. I could ask Loki to persuade Odin into allowing you a temporary leave."

"Perhaps then I can find my pedigree…"

"What are you speaking of?"

There was a hint of grief in his eyes when he answered her, "My parents died when I was young. No one knew anything about them accept for the fact that my father was not Asgardian. I'd like to find out more about them, so as to learn about myself."

Freyja thought about that, wondering why Ottar had never told her before. But she also wondered about his want to learn more, bringing to mind her own mother she knew so little about. Her father had very rarely spoken of Queen Van, and the servants had said even less.

"It's settled then, I will take you to Midgard and Alfheim someday."

He laughed, "There is no talking you out of this, is there?"

"I thought you wanted this."

"Yes, but I have duties to perform. Such a travel can wait."

"How can you shackle yourself to the palace when I offer you a chance to see the Realms and possibly find more on your parents?"

He shrugged, "My priorities are different from yours. Come, we should return to the castle."

As they walked back to the golden gates before the palace, Freyja couldn't help wondering about their conversation. It seemed Ottar knew where to find information on his parents, or at least a broad idea of where, and yet she was unsure of who to ask about her mother. Once inside, she bid Ottar farewell and went in search of her brother. If there was anywhere to start, it was with him.

The only problem with searching for Freyr lay in the fact that the grounds were too large an area to effectively search. There was also the possibility that he was not even in the castle, but Freyja made sure to ask every other servant she passed. Most replied with an apology for not knowing where he was, but she thanked them anyway. With the guesses of several different servants, she made her way to the library of the castle.

The Royal Library was almost always empty as very few Asgardians took the time to read anything other than ancient battle techniques or war stories. However, there was, thanks to Frigga, a large section of literature from Vanaheim. Though this area mostly contained grimoires, there were a few fictional novels and even a handful of history tomes. She had spent many days in the library when she was young, often reading any books on Asgardian history and customs as she could. It was, in fact, the very place Loki first decided to speak with her the first time.

She found Freyr lounging in a comfortable beige armchair with a black leather book in his hands. He looked up at her with his gray-blue eyes, smiling in return to hers.

"You have a question for me," he said softly, turning one of the pages.

"I was out with Ottar this morning when he brought up a topic I had not realized before."

"And what would that be?"

"Have you ever realized just how little we know of our mother?"

He paused from his book before setting it down and sitting up, "This has never concerned you before."

"Is it not strange that Father rarely mentions her?"

"I believe, despite his cold exterior, that it pains him to think of her. I cannot say I blame him for such."

"But there must be some way to learn more. Honestly, Freyr, we barely know who she was."

"I suppose there are her journals…"

"Journals?"

"Yes, Mother kept one journal for each year after she married Father. But they're locked up in his room under heavy enchantments."

"Why would Father keep her records hidden in his room?"

"How am I to know the reasons behind Father's actions?"

He stood up and returned the book to a shelf in the Asgardian section, "I should probably leave. I have a meeting in a few minutes."

"A meeting?"

He smiled at her, "You're not the only one Father wishes to marry off."

"Good luck," she called as he left the room.

Deciding that there may be some information within the few historical records in the Vanaheim section, Freyja spent the next hour combing through the tomes for any information on her mother. Much to her confusion, she found the information regarding her and her brother's birth to be incomplete. It seemed to be patched together as one would the scraps of old quilts, leaving large holes that caused her to wonder what had once been there.

She sighed as she replaced the last volume on the dark wooden shelves. It was a little past noon but she found she was not hungry. As she walked to the door, the sound of books tumbling to the floor caught her attention. Turning around, she noticed that the entire shelf she had just been looking through was now empty, its contents scattered across the floor. She narrowed her eyes at the shelf which was seemingly undisturbed.

Looking around to find the source of the mess, she found that she was entirely alone in the room. Perhaps Loki was playing one of his tricks? She shook her head at the thought. If it was Loki, he would have caused the books to grow teeth and chase her, as he had once done to Thor. She then searched the room mentally, but found there was no other consciousness in the room. She was completely alone.

She walked over to the mess of fallen books, replacing them on the shelf in the order she knew belonged to them. As she set the last book in place, she noticed she had forgotten one. It was velvet-bound, a technique used only in Vanaheim, with coiling silver lettering contrasting with the navy blue behind it. Flipping through the pages, she realized it was handwritten in the language of her people.

Glancing at the refilled shelf, she noticed that there was no more room for one more book. It had not been there before, so how had it turned up? She looked down at the title. _Daybook of Enderyear_. She stared at it in shock, recognizing the name of the year she had been born. With a final glance around, she took off to her room.

As soon as she entered her chambers, she realized someone had entered. It hadn't been one of the servants, either, for this person had left their magical signature in the room. With the use of a specific charm, she could read just whose it was. She was familiar with the magical signature, often displayed as a unique scent, of those closest to her. Her father's was sea salt, Freyr's could only be described as sunlight, Thor's was the clean air of the highest level of the atmosphere, Animi's had been sandalwood and sage, Loki's was cinnamon and mint, and she had the peculiar mix of the ocean breeze and wildflowers.

This one was completely unfamiliar to her, lemon and rosemary. There was no one in the room with her, but she felt on edge from the idea that someone had been in her chambers. Looking around, she spotted a piece of parchment on her desk which had not been there earlier in the morning. As she picked it up, she recognized the sloppy form of a being who had never written in the language of her people before.

"Forgive me for eavesdropping," she read aloud. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Freyr. It took quite the effort to break through your father's enchantments. I hope you make good use of my gift."

She stared at the unsigned note, wondering just what this stranger was playing at. Deciding against warning the guards of a man they couldn't track, Freyja sat down on the chair which sat before the desk. Opening the strange book, she flipped to about halfway through it before skimming its contents.

**Njord left for Alfheim this morn in attempts to renew the treaty. If the last treaty is any indication, he will be gone for many months. While he is away-**

Freyja pulled herself away from the writing, glancing again at the cover. She stared at the pages in shock, wondering if the stranger who had left the note had also left the book for her to find. If it was what she believed it to be, the stranger would have to be frighteningly powerful. Flipping a couple pages forward, she read a single passage that confirmed her guess.

**The Healers have come to the conclusion that this morning's illness was indeed the product of a child. It has only been a week since he returned from Alfheim and I have great news for him. Elein has yet to stop tittering away with questions about the child. Whether I wish it to be a boy or a girl, I have yet to decide. A prince would be perfect, but a young girl to dote upon and personally teach would be splendid. I will simply have to wait to find out.**

Elein, Freyja knew, had been Van's closest handmaid. Even after Van had died, Elein had watched out for her. Wanting to read her mother's memories closest to the birth, Freyja flipped excitedly to the date she and her brother had been born. However, something strange caught her eye a week before the date of their birth.

**Njord is keeping something from me. I have not seen him so frightful since he returned from the Norns last summer solstice. When I awoke, his face had been replaced with that of an elder. He refused to tell me more than it was the price the Norns demanded when he spoke with them. But why would they wait so long before collecting their payment? Why not steal his beauty when he spoke with them?**

** He will not answer my questions. He only ever remains silent when there are no opportunities to speak in riddles. The only thing he tells me is that he must journey to Alfheim immediately. Perhaps there is some danger there that the Norns warned him of. What is he keeping from me?**

She stared at the last sentence of the first paragraph in surprise. She had always known her father bore a face that was not his, but she had not been aware of the fact the Norns had caused him to appear that way. Shaking her head at the questions that arose, she flipped forward until she found the exact date they were born. Wondering if their mother had written an entry before the birth which caused her death, Freyja began reading only to stop at the first sentence.

**It is a boy.**

It took her a minute to gather her thoughts on such a simple sentence. Those four words caused her entire knowledge of her mother to unravel. Her father had said her mother had died at birth. The handwriting had not changed so it was clearly not her father writing a final entry for Van. Also, should it not say that there was both a boy and a girl? She forced herself to continue out of confusion.

**It is a boy. Njord has yet to return but I will welcome him with the introduction of his son. I have named him Freyr, for he will be both a lord and a king to our people. I only wonder what is causing Njord such delays. I hope he returns before sunset.**

** Elein is thrilled with Freyr, holding him whenever I do not. When I search the future, he becomes a strong and wise man. I look forward to watching him grow.**

Freyja ignored the next couple paragraphs, all of them telling of plans for celebrations in honor of Freyr. She wondered why her mother had not mentioned her as she skipped to the next day.

**Njord returned late in the night, presenting me with a gift of his own. He says she is the daughter of a woman he cared for greatly, a woman who is now dead. Perhaps this child is the daughter of his sister, a woman he never mentions. She is a beautiful girl, but the taint of magic surrounds her at all times. He was glad to see me welcome the girl with open arms, and even more thrilled at the sight of his son, but something seems to still weigh heavy on his mind.**

** The girl is a very strange, though lovely, child. She does not cry, even when Freyr screams out for me. She seems far too intelligent for her age and I believe she is half Æsir, for she has eyes so blue they cannot be a Vanaheim trait. When she sleeps, she leans close to either Freyr or I. Even without searching the future, I can see the compassionate woman she will become. I now have both a son and daughter to enjoy.**

The more she read, the less sense the entire book seemed to make. She flipped through the pages until the page that marked two weeks after Freyr's birth caught her eye. The words were slightly messier, as if written by an unsteady hand, than the other pages, but she could still decipher what they said.

**Lies.**

** He has lied to me. He has lied to me for as long as Freyr has been alive. I suppose his deceit is a product of my being naïve. A daughter of a woman he cared for, he had said. And not a word of it was false. He cared for the mother greatly. He cared for her and she bore him a child. I have seen the proof in her eyes.**

** I had decided that she cannot be our niece, as she bears no golden ring in her eyes. I was wrong, yet right. She is not our niece, but she bears the mark of our royalty. She looked into the future not ten minutes before now, and I saw it. When her eyes turned silver, I saw it. She is his daughter, but she is not mine.**

** Has he lied to me before? When did he begin to keep secrets? Why did he turn to the embrace of another woman? Have I failed him? So many questions without answers to put aside my fears.**

** One thing I am certain of. He has created a monster. A halfling. There is no other explanation. She is of the Elves. The taint of magic which surrounds her, it must be spells placed upon her to keep the truth hidden. Now that I know, I can see under the illusion. I see the Elven marks. I see the failure of our marriage.**

** What can I do? I love Njord, yet he does not love me. Does it hurt him to look at my face in the morn and not that of his lover? Perhaps I should remove the face from his sight, to ease his sufferings. Perhaps, in such a way, I will never fail him again. Perhaps Freyr and Freyja will live a better life with a father who is not plagued with a woman he does not love.**

** I will not cause him pain any longer.**

** I will not cause the children pain over a marriage of lies.**

** I will end our suffering.**

Freyja flipped the page frantically, searching for more. Tearing through the pages as if trying to rip them out, she scanned the blank pages for more. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Her father's stories, her mother's journal, her entire life. Why did nothing make sense?

"Lies!" she screamed as she threw the book across the room at the wall.

It hit the platinum walls with a low thud, but she could still hear the words spinning around in her head. Rushing across the room, she kicked an armchair out of her way so that she could stand before a full-length mirror hanging on her wall.

Staring at the face in the mirror, she began to see the traces left behind of a very powerful illusion spell. She recognized it as one you could not notice unless you knew it was there. She stripped herself of her Asgardian form before thinking of a strong revealing charm that would work.

"_Faetor_!" she screeched at the mirror.

As if she was cloaked in a threadbare tapestry, she watched the illusion fall away in pieces. She watched in horror as her ears grew slightly pointed ends and her hair turned the color of starlight. Stepping back from the sight, she willed the illusion to return. Her Asgardian form slipped back into place but she couldn't shake the image from her head.

She was a halfling. A dangerous breed of Vanir blood and another race that was not of the Æsir. While the Æsir blood could mix properly with that of Vanaheim, no other could without producing a child of dangerous proportions. The halflings were the Jotuns of the Vanaheim stories, the deadly monsters had the power to destroy the worlds.

And she was one of them.

Without a second thought, she threw her door open and ran out. She raced down the halls, ignoring all of the concerned or irate servants she ran into. Through the halls and out of the palace, she continued running until she reached the Bifrost. She did not stop when she reached the rainbow bridge, but rather sped up as if the close distance urged her forward.

Heimdall gazed at her as she passed, following as she entered the Observatory with a detached look in her eyes. She knew he couldn't see into her chambers, thanks to the protective charms, but she needed him to know where she was going.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost to Alfheim, if you would."

"Anywhere in particular, princess?"

"Somewhere that I can find answers," she muttered, pacing as she waited.

She felt the pull of energy as he slid his sword into the pedestal that worked as a switch for the Bifrost. One words continued to run circles in her head, even as the myriad of light swallowed her whole.

Lies…


	11. Chapter 10: Painfully Numb

**_Song of the Chapter: Everybody's Fool ~ Evanescence_**

* * *

_"Sometimes the truth hurts worse than a lie when you hear it from someone that you least expect."_

_ -Rasheed Bryant_

* * *

For the first time in her life, Freyja felt dead to the world around her. She had never felt so detached from life as she did as she walked through the bustling streets of the Elven market. She hadn't even bothered to change her form so that she may blend in among the elves. Her Asgardian guise of crimson curls and her impossibly blue eyes stood out greatly in the sea of white-haired Light Elves.

She knew what she was searching for, though she hadn't the slightest idea of how to find it. The question as to where to find it was also a problem. Her travels through Alfheim had been extensive, but left many areas unknown to her. The answers she sought were no doubt in one of those untouched areas, but it didn't narrow down her search too much. She could scour Alfheim for weeks without a sign she was close. For all she knew, she could have no living relatives on her true mother's side, whoever the woman may be.

She shook her head idly at a man selling tapestries, not quite sure what he had asked in the first place. As she thought over what she had learned, she began to realize why she never felt comfortable in Vanaheim. She wondered if her true identity was what affected her father. How would Freyr respond, she wondered, when they had been so close all their lives?

She wondered if she could find answers from her father, but she didn't have the strength to face him yet. Besides, he had kept the truth from her for so long, what caused her to think he would suddenly start being completely honest with her. Her confusion was overwhelming, causing her to internally scream.

Just as she thought of finding an inn of some form, a painting caught her eye. She stopped to examine the stall, which was filled with sketches and paintings of all forms and sizes. The one that had caught her interest was the full length painting of a tall, lean man with an angular face, long white hair and silvery-blue eyes. If she looked closely, she could've sworn it almost looked like-

"Can I interest you with anything?" a woman in her mid-twenties asked in the language of the elves, wiping her hands on a filthy rag.

She was tall and thin just as most elves, but not as thin as her people. Her brown eyes scanned over Freyja with barely contained interest. Her pale white hair was pulled back into a bun, with the exception of a few stray hairs that hung across her forehead. Altogether, she looked oddly familiar.

"I was simply looking. Are these your works?" she replied in the same language.

"Most of them," the woman answered, looking surprised at Freyja's knowledge of the language. "A few are my aunt's."

"They are quite beautiful," she commented, examining the man's portrait once more.

"That one was actually painted by my aunt before she died. He was her lover, for a time."

"I'm sorry for your loss," she muttered, still looking at the painting as if it might come to life.

"I have to say, I don't see many Asgardians come here."

"I'm not surprised. Asgardians often journey to towns more likely to entertain them with a brawl."

"You speak as if you're not one of them," the woman laughed.

"I'm not," Freyja answered. "What was this man's name? I think I may have met him once."

"That's not likely, I'm afraid, seeing as he's the king of Vanaheim," she replied, turning around to find something within the tent behind her.

"What?" Freyja demanded, looking up to see the woman was gone. "Wait!"

She stumbled over several stacks of paintings and sketches as she attempted to reach the tent at the back of the stall. Cursing in her own language as a large pile fell in her way, she began to hastily pile them back up. She stopped as the woman returned, looking pale in the face.

"What did you just say?" she whispered, eyes wide.

"It matters not," Freyja answered, unsure as to why the woman looked as if she might faint.

"What are you?"

"I cannot honestly answer that at the moment."

"Who are you?"

"Freyja of Vanaheim."

She narrowed her eyes, "I have no time to waste on the daughters of unfaithful men."

Freyja's jaw fell in shock at the comment, "You know not what you speak of."

"Don't I?" the woman snapped. "Because of your father, my aunt died. He stole the one thing she left behind for us and no doubt killed it."

"My father is not a thief!"

"No, your father is a murderer!"

"Eira, what is all this yelling about?"

Both stopped short as an older woman walked out of the tent. The woman stared at Freyja with wide eyes as she looked to her.

"Selenda?" the woman whispered.

The other, Eira, looked towards her with surprise, "Selenda is dead, Mama. Njord had the apathy to leave Aunt Astrid, he had the apathy to kill his daughter, as well."

The woman pushed Eira gently out of the way, taking Freyja's face in her hands, "Selenda? Is it you?"

"You have me mistaken," she answered shakily. "My name is Freyja, Princess of Vanaheim."

"I know of your title. What I wish to know is who you are."

"Eira said my father was her aunt's lover. What name did you call him?"

"Alrek, for he said he was a powerful leader."

"Eira's aunt, your sister, did she bear a child? A daughter?"

"How do you know this? Has Njord told stories of the daughter he killed?" Eira demanded.

"No," Freyja breathed, shocked at her luck. "He never killed me…Why did he allow me to live?"

"What?"

"I always thought my mother to be Queen Van. Quite recently, I've been given proof to doubt it. I came here in search of answers…"

"You've returned to us!" the older woman exclaimed, throwing her arms around the surprised Freyja.

"I suppose I have."

* * *

Freyja sat on a three-legged stool, clasping her fingers tightly around a small clay glass of tea. She had been watching, for some time now, as the woman, Ysmay by name, bustled around while chattering away about a woman named Astrid. Apparently, Astrid had been the name of her mother, but Freyja was still slightly disbelieving. It seemed this was the case for Eira, as well, who stared at her as if she would sprout wings and a tail at any moment.

"Strange that you should have chosen such a form in Asgard," Ysmay said cheerily as she searched for some sugar. "You look amazingly like Astrid, although she had white hair and brown eyes. And you say Njord never told you anything of her? Perhaps it is only in facial structure. Tell me, dear, when your people choose a new form, do they create it from imagination or alter their true forms to match? Also, just how-"

"Mama, give her a second to answer. She doesn't look well as it is, your questions are simply troubling her more."

"Of course, of course," she said as she turned to face Freyja, looking at her expectantly.

Freyja took a sip of her tea, not noticing the flavor, "Umm…No, my father always led me to believe that my mother was Queen Van. As for our appearances, it simply depends on the being. I altered my face slightly to resemble the Asgardians, so I suppose I naturally resemble Astr- my mother."

"Fascinating. So little is known of your people, it almost seems as if you are a myth. Do tell me how you speak our language as if it was your own."

"My people have a ritual of travelling through the Realms to learn more on them. It becomes necessary to speak the native tongue of each world."

"How did you find us?" Eira asked suddenly.

"I honestly wasn't looking for you. I had no idea if I had any living relatives; I suppose I was simply trying to catch smoke."

"Fate works in strange ways," Ysmay added.

"That it does."

"Selenda-"

"Freyja, please," she said, wincing at the unfamiliar name.

"Forgive me. Freyja. Just how did you learn of your true birth?"

"Queen Van kept a series of journals. I received one from an unknown source and decided to learn more about the woman I believed to be my mother. What I read did not match my father's words, but they led me here.

"I must know, just how did my father meet your sister?"

Ysmay sat down on another stool with a sigh, "The day Astrid met Njord was the day she followed me to greet my husband, Hardbein. He was a handsome man then, Njord, and he caught her eye as he leapt from the rigging to the deck of his ship. While I spoke with Hardbein, she became acquainted with Njord. Over the next few months, she met with him, calling him 'Alrek' as she said he was a wise leader.

"We believed him to be a member of the Court, a group of our leaders who keep the treaties, trading balance, and laws in order. He gave us no reason to believe was not an elf. I don't know when exactly they became more than friends but within six months, he told us he had to leave.

"A week or so after his departure, and we found Astrid was pregnant. We expected the news to travel to Asundi, our capital, where we believed Alrek to be. But he never came, and my anger grew as the time passed. Astrid was always the forgiving one, and she made excuses for him from dawn to dusk. She never found out the truth.

"When she went into labor, the Healers knew there was something wrong. She began-" Ysmay took a shuddering breath as she choked on the words, "-She began to have seizures. We lost her not long after you were born. But even then, the Healers did not know what to do with you. You were unlike anything we had ever seen. Dark and angular as a Dark Elf yet you were distinctly not one.

"We knew who you were when you opened your eyes. They were the same shade as Astrid's, but they had the ring of gold which marks your family for who they are. Though surprised at your nature, I would have cared for you as if you were my own. Astrid was gone and you were the gift she left behind. But when you remained silent, the Healers knew you would not live long.

"When they had given up with saving you, Eira and I moved here, where the Healers were renowned for their skill. But even they could not heal your illness. We kept you a week before Njord returned, though he bore a different face. He said he needed to kill you, that the Norns had told him you were dangerous. I wasn't having it. I had lost my sister because of him, I did not want to lose you as well.

"It did little good, though. He took you from us and vanished into the night. I thought for sure that he had murdered you. A few months after and we received the rumors that Njord's wife had borne him twins, but I never believed he could have deceived so many. I thought you lost forever. And yet here you are, looking as shocked as I feel."

"Did Astrid – my mother – keep records of some form? Anything that I could see for myself?"

"I might still have Aunt Astrid's sketchbook somewhere in my room," Eira said as she walked into a side room.

"Are you alright?" Ysmay asked in a concerned tone.

"No, I'm most certainly not alright. Would you if you were in my situation? All my life, I've been led to believe I was Freyr's twi-"

She broke off, eyes widening as something seemed to snap to reality in her head.

"You said you kept me a week before my father came for me?"

"Yes, but I do not understand why that would be so important to you…"

"Father brought me to Van the night Freyr was born," she muttered. "But I was here for a week."

She leaned her head against the wall behind her, closing her eyes, "Freyr's coronation…"

"What?"

"My brother, Freyr, he believes he's the rightful heir to the throne. If what you say is true, then he can never truly become King. And the winter solstice is only two months away…"

"I don't understand-"

"It's our custom. The true heir to the throne is the claimed first-born of the reigning monarch. The ceremony requires nothing less, and so he would never become true Queen. Why did he not kill me? The fool knowingly took the throne from his son when he named me his daughter!"

Ysmay's eyes widened, "I wasn't aware of this."

"He'll be devastated…Inheriting the throne has always been his greatest wish. He wanted to right the wrongs of the past monarchs, to fix our laws and renew our treaties. He wished to build bridges between the Realms unlike ever before. It was his dream, a dream he can never have because of me."

"I found it," Eira called, coming back into the room.

"Forgive me," Freyja said, putting down the cup. "I have to leave. This was all a terrible mistake."

Ysmay's face fell, "You're leaving?"

A pang of guilt hit her as she watched the woman's devastation, "I won't disappear from your lives completely. For now, I must collect my thoughts. I will come back one day. Thank you for your hospitality."

Unable to say any more, she ran out of the house and out into the woods. Pushing past the branches and thorns that pulled at her tunic and scratched her skin, Freyja ran away from it all. She had hoped the visit would help her, but it had only drove the knife deeper.

"Heimdall!" she yelled into the skies, voice cracking. "Take me away from here!"

The flash of light swallowed her whole, pulling her back towards Asgard. Her stomach flipped as the energy caused its usual sickness, adding to the already ill feeling she had.

"Princess," Heimdall started.

"Speak not a word of what you saw to anyone, especially my brother," she begged. "Please."

He sighed in resignation, "I will take it to Ragnarok."

She nodded her thanks, but her movements were shakier than usual. She walked briskly back to the castle, not even acknowledging the worried glances or queries the people sent her way. Thankful that she had not run into Freyr, Loki or Thor on her way, she locked the door of her chambers behind her.

The journal was still splayed across the floor and the chair lay on its side next to the mirror, as no one had entered her room since she left. As she leaned against the back of the door, the mirror across from her seemed to glare at her mockingly, reminding her of what she wasn't. She stared at the mirror, which was actually made of crystal instead of glass, in anguish. Not wanting to see it any longer, she willed it the break.

Thin spider web-like cracks laced their way across the smooth surface, fracturing her reflection. As the fissures covered the entire surface of the crystal, it shattered and fell to the floor. A knock on the door broke her from her reverie.

"Freyja?"

She recoiled at the sound of her brother's voice, trying to gain the courage to speak.

"Freyja? Are you alright? I've been looking for you since the end of lunch. Some of the servants said you looked troubled."

_I will not cause him pain any longer._

"Did Father ever tell you how she died?" she croaked.

"Mother? Yes, why?"

_I will not cause the children pain over a marriage of lies._

"Tell me please," she whispered.

_I will end our suffering._

"She took her own life, bled to death. No one knows why."

She answered him with silence, unable to respond.

"Did he never tell you?"

"No," she breathed.

"Freyja," he rattled the doorknob. "What is this about? Please let me in."

"Leave me."

She could hear the door groaning as he attempted to open it through magic and force.

"Sister."

With that one word, she snapped.

"Leave me!"

She felt the pressure of his weight leave the door, heard the sound of him kneeling down on the other side.

"I can help you, Freyja, if you would only let me in. Please, what is wrong?"

She hugged her knees tight around her, closing her eyes against his continued pleading. She couldn't face him, not when he would only be an instant reminder of the pain she would cause him in the future.

"I know why," she whispered to no one. "I know why…"


	12. Chapter 11: Fragile Strength

**_Song of the Chapter: Running Up That Hill ~ Placebo_**

**_Because Placebo's cover sets the mood better than the original, faster-paced version Kate Bush sang. Special thanks to Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl for the Norse translation and the constant reviews. I hope you enjoy._**

* * *

_"Most people want to be the sun who brightens up your day. I would rather be the moon, shining down on you in your darkest hour."_

_ -Anonymous_

* * *

It had been three days, three incredibly trying days since Freyja had returned from her mysterious journey. In those three days, she had not come out of her room, had not spoken to anyone, and had not eaten. Outside her door, acting as a personal guard, sat Freyr. He stayed almost motionless, leaning against the dark wood with an air of dismay. The prince had stayed by the door as long as Freyja had stayed within her chambers, never leaving unless he absolutely had to. His eyes were ringed with black after the nights without sleep but he refused to leave. The servants and royal family alike worried for the siblings.

Loki felt as if he was going out of his mind. He had never, not once in his life, seen Freyja do such a thing. After all of the troubles she had received, never had one driven her to hiding in the sanctity of her chambers. She wouldn't allow her brother to enter, nor the servants, which caused him to think she would not welcome him either. So he spent most of his time pacing in various rooms of the palace, trying to determine just what was troubling her.

When he was not fretting over her concerns, he had assigned himself to bringing her meals to her door every day. She had yet to so much as retrieve one, but he refused to give up in his task. As he walked towards the door at noon, he noticed Freyr was hanging his head in defeat. He looked up with sad blue-gray eyes as he noticed Loki.

"Any sign of her?" he asked the Vanir.

"Not a word. What could possibly be ailing her? The only time she has ever kept her troubles from me was when she had the nightmares."

Loki repressed a shudder, remembering when her screams would pierce the night. She had told him some of the memories that haunted her, but often she kept silent as she saw his hurt at her revelations.

"If that is the case, then she is only keeping to herself to keep from bringing you pain."

"What could she possibly be keeping from me?"

"I don't know, Freyr."

The blonde sighed, hanging his head, "She's never done this before. When something wounds her, she seeks solitude but never to such a degree. I worry for her. We can survive without sustenance, but only if we have a source of energy to sustain us. As it is, she could stay in there for centuries and never come out."

"She has to leave eventually."

He shook his head, "It has something to do with Father, that much I can tell. But I cannot fathom what he could have done to cause this reaction."

Loki sat down next to Freyr, placing the tray next to him.

"Father has always been…distant," he sighed. "And with Freyja as dependent on displays of emotion as she is, they have never seen eye-to-eye. All she's ever wanted was to coax a smile from Father, some small sign that he cares. I thought we had failed her when she came here for solace. That was why I came here afterwards, much to Father's chagrin."

He paused before laughing shakily, "I was envious when I first met you. It was the first time I had felt such a thing."

"I thought the Vanir incapable of feeling envy."

"We are supposed to be unable to feel it, and yet I was greatly jealous of you. She had forged a bond with you that she had only shone to me before. It only strengthened the idea that I had let her down."

Loki shook his head, "Freyja treasures you greatly. You were there for her before she knew I existed. I could never replace you in her heart."

"You're a good man, Loki," he said suddenly. "Despite your troublesome tendencies, you are good for her."

"You should rest, Freyr," Loki said in surprise. "Your fatigue is getting the best of you."

"I'm being completely serious, though I suppose you're right."

"Go rest. I'll watch for her."

Freyr glanced at the door in hesitation.

"Go on."

With a resigned sigh, he stood up, "Thank you. And, just between you and me, if you ever wish to ask for her hand, you have my support."

"What?"

Freyr gave a tired smile, "I'm not blind, Loki. I see the way you look at her when she isn't watching. And I know my sister too well not to know when she is in love.

"There was a time when she scoured the Realms for what she has with you. I'm simply glad she found it with someone I know and trust."

"You're not going to warn me not to break her heart or cause her pain?" Loki asked, not quite believing what he had heard.

"I don't believe you could if you wanted to," he said. "The only thing I fear that will hurt her is if Father takes her back to Vanaheim to keep her away from you, though I highly doubt that she would allow it. Thank you."

With that he turned and began walking down the hall.

"For what?" Loki called after him in confusion.

"For how happy you make her, even in her darkest hours."

If he looked closely, Loki could have almost sworn Freyr's eyes had flashed silver. Unsure of what to do, he watched the Vanir walk off and disappear from view. He stood up and knocked on the door in attempt to try his luck.

"Freyja? Will you allow me in?"

There was silence to answer his question.

"I do not know if I can be of any assistance, but it is always better to speak of what hurts us than to attempt to heal yourself."

He waited, wondering if she was even listening.

"You do yourself no good by staying in there alone."

"Why do you want to come in so desperately?" he heard a quiet voice ask.

"Because I want to help you."

"No one can help me. No one can change their nature," she said coldly.

"I'm worried for you, as is Freyr."

"Save your worry for someone who deserves it."

"At least tell me what ails you."

"Why?"

He paused before speaking once more, "Because, if it pleases you, I will remain silent through the whole of the ordeal. I can offer no more than that, for there is nothing more to possibly give. I know I cannot mend what wounds you, but I wish to try nonetheless."

Silence filled the emptiness once more and he wondered if he should have said something different. Then, much to his surprise, the door clicked open. Picking up the tray, he walked in and locked it behind him.

The usually neat room was in tatters. Furniture had been tossed aside as if in a fit of rage. Books from the usually full shelves that covered most of the walls lay cluttered across the floor, splayed apart in random forms. The once ornate mirror was shattered, pieces lying on the floor like fallen snow. The curtains of the windows were falling off, partially obscuring the light that attempted to penetrate the darkness. In the middle of the chaos was a single blue armchair in which a disheveled Freyja sat, watching the coiling tendrils of her silver aura twist around her thin fingers.

"Decided to redecorate, I see," he muttered.

"I don't understand how I never noticed this before…"

"The need for change?" he asked in confusion.

As he walked closer, he took in her appearance. Her powder blue gown was slightly frayed, as if she had run through a bramble patch and her eyes were both red from crying and dark from sleepless nights. Her face held a slightly haunted look to it. He wondered why she didn't turn to look at him as they spoke.

"I am not what I thought I was," the smoke suddenly turned to silver flames.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"Tell me what you know of my heritage."

"You are Princess Freyja of Vanaheim. Daughter of Njord and Van and twin sister to Freyr. Second in line for the throne, as you are the younger child."

"Lies," she spat, clenching her hand into a fist around the flames.

"You've lost me once more."

She stood up, carefully avoiding his eyes, and walked through the disarray as if it was not there. She picked up a strange-looking book and opened it to a page near the center. She took the tray from him and replaced it with the book.

"Go ahead, read it. Find out the truth about me."

He looked up worriedly as she placed the tray on a flipped chair. Before she could turn around, he began reading the graceful glyphs that made up her language.

"'Njord returned late in the night, presenting me with a gift of his own. He says she is the daughter of a woman he cared for greatly, a woman who is now dead'."

He stopped in his reading, looking up at Freyja, "Whose journal is this?"

"It was Queen Van's, before she took her own life. Don't stop."

He licked his lips, wondering why she was asking this of him, "'Perhaps this child is the daughter of his sister, a woman he never mentions. She is a beautiful girl, but the taint of magic surrounds her at all times. He was glad to see me welcome the girl with open arms, and even more thrilled at the sight of his son, but something seems to still weigh heavy on his mind.'

"'The girl is a very strange, though lovely, child. She does not cry, even when Freyr screams out for me. She seems far too intelligent for her age and I believe she is half Æsir, for she has eyes so blue they cannot be a Vanaheim trait. When she sleeps, she leans close to either Freyr or I. Even without searching the future, I can see the compassionate woman she will become. I now have both a son and daughter to enjoy.'

"Love, what is this?"

She sat back down in the chair, "It is the undoing of my father's deception. It is Queen Van's confession of my true nature. Skip twenty pages and read until it ends."

He turned to the page she described, "'Lies.'

"'He has lied to me. He has lied to me for as long as Freyr has been alive. I suppose his deceit is a product of my being naïve. A daughter of a woman he cared for, he had said. And not a word of it was false. He cared for the mother greatly. He cared for her and she bore him a child. I have seen the proof in her eyes.'

"'I had decided that she cannot be our niece, as she bears no golden ring in her eyes. I was wrong, yet right. She is not our niece, but she bears the mark of our royalty. She looked into the future not ten minutes before now, and I saw it. When her eyes turned silver, I saw it. She is his daughter, but she is not mine.'

"'Has he lied to me before? When did he begin to keep secrets? Why did he turn to the embrace of another woman? Have I failed him? So many questions without answers to put aside my fears.'

"'One thing I am certain of. He has created a monster. A halfling. There is no other explanation. She is of the Elves. The taint of magic which surrounds her, it must be spells placed upon her to keep the truth hidden. Now that I know, I can see under the illusion. I see the Elven marks. I see the failure of our marriage.'

"'What can I do? I love Njord, yet he does not love me. Does it hurt him to look at my face in the morn and not that of his lover? Perhaps I should remove the face from his sight, to ease his sufferings. Perhaps, in such a way, I will never fail him again. Perhaps Freyr and Freyja will live a better life with a father who is not plagued with a woman he does not love.'

"'I will not cause him pain any longer. I will not cause the children pain over a marriage of lies. I will end our suffering.'

"You're a _blandet rase_?"

"Worse," she hissed. "A _blandet rase_ is simply the mix of the races. I am the mix of a Vanir and a race separate from the gods. A monster of unimaginable powers, a creature that is unlawful and shouldn't exist. A halfling.

"More than that, I am the first-born claimed child of Njord. Freyr will never gain the throne because of me. I have unknowingly stolen his greatest wishes. How can I ever explain this without hurting him? If I told him, he would be crushed. I cannot do that to him, and yet he will find out when he attempts to inherit the throne."

She went silent, leaving Loki to think over what she had revealed. He now understood why she refused to allow Freyr in. He could see how deeply the news had hurt her.

"A halfling?" he asked, not familiar with the term.

"They are one of our greatest secrets. If a Vanir sires a child with a being that is neither of Asgard or Vanaheim, the child is always a threat. They are born with unique abilities, and become cold-blooded murderers. When one is found, they are destroyed before they endanger the Realms."

"That does not describe you."

"Am I not of two races?"

"You are not a monster, Freyja, nor a murderer."

She looked at him, tears brimming at the edges of her strange blue eyes, "I am an abomination."

He walked behind her, discarding the book, and wrapped his arms around her, "No, you are a compassionate, beautiful woman who doesn't deserve such news."

"You only speak of this form I wear as a shield. If you saw what I truly appear as, you would not see me the same way again."

"Your true form cannot be so terrible. I'm sure you are just as beautiful."

"I'm not," she said as she broke his embrace and walked into her bedchamber.

He followed her, taking a seat on her bed across from her, "Show me, and I will prove you wrong."

"No," she said firmly, fear in her eyes.

"Why not?"

"I have watched many Vanir fall in love with Æsir, Loki. They may be perfect together, but disaster strikes when the Asgardian becomes curious about the Vanir's true form. As soon as the Vanir obliges, the Asgardian runs from fright to leave the Vanir heartbroken. It is why you either find Vanir with their own or with Æsir who never see the truth beneath the charade."

"I swear to you, I will not spurn you for such."

"Don't make promises you cannot possibly keep," she said, her voice breaking.

"Please," he whispered. "I love you, Freyja. Nothing could ever change that."

She stiffened at his statement, turning to look at him once more. Before he could continue, darkness seemed to slowly envelope her. Her skin deepened until it was a strange blue-black, just a shade darker than that of the Jotuns. Her red curls straightened, turning a strange iridescent black as if it was made of darkness itself. She grew taller, form thinning until it was almost skeletal, as her angles sharpened.

His eyes widened in shock at the frightening change, causing her to look away with a pained expression. He felt guilt at making her uncomfortable in her own skin so he forced himself to keep a solemn face. The more he looked, the more mesmerizing she seemed to be. It was truly enthralling that her true form was such a mix of otherworldly and enticing. If possible, she seemed even more striking.

"This is your true form?" he asked, slightly breathless.

"With the illusions my father placed upon me, yes."

"What do you look like without the enchantments?"

Her hair suddenly turned a lustrous shade of white-silver and her ears elongated to end in points. She didn't look up as her transformation finished and he realized she thought he was disgusted by it. He wondered how she could think that about herself. He made his way behind her. Without warning, he placed a kiss on her now bare shoulder, as the neckline of the dress had fallen slightly when she grew thinner.

Her eyes snapped to him in surprise, "This form is not abhorrent to you?"

"No," he muttered against her dark skin. "There isn't a single aspect of this form that I find unappealing."

If he had thought her skin was heated on his before, it was burning against his in this form. She allowed him to lean forward to kiss across her collarbone, tracing the delicate line with his tongue. She leaned her head back against his shoulder as he placed open-mouthed kisses across her skin. He worked his way back up, sinking his teeth into her shoulder.

"Loki," she whispered, the word spoken as if it was a prayer.

He felt her form begin to shift under him as she began to revert to her Asgardian form.

"Don't," he whispered.

She opened her eyes, confusion clear in them.

"Don't change. Stay like this," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

"You want me to stay in this form?"

"Yes. Allow me to explain what I see."

She took a shuddering breath as he tore the fabric of her dress down the back, revealing her sheer chemise. He grazed his teeth down her neck as he reached the hollow between her shoulder blades.

"I see a woman with best interests at heart. A woman who is far too self-sacrificing for her own good, who would put the happiness of her people before that of her own. I see a princess who would die for those she loves, and would happily trade herself if it meant there safety. She is compassionate, thoughtful, creative and intelligent. It is this that makes you beautiful to me, love, not the skin you wear."

He placed gentle kisses down her spine, causing her to shiver.

"No one should be allowed to hurt you in such a way. No one has the right to call you a monster when you have never hurt anyone in your life. If I could, I would take all of your pain for you. You deserve to be treated as a queen, and nothing less."

She moaned softly as he moved back up to the other side of her neck.

"I am lucky to have you," she whispered.

"No," he replied, kissing her high cheekbone. "I am the lucky one."

* * *

Loki couldn't tell exactly how long had passed, but he somehow found it didn't matter. He lay next to Freyja, her back to his chest, feeling elated that her mood had lightened. She had reverted back to her Asgardian form and was humming an unfamiliar tune.

"You know," she said suddenly, turning over to face him. "You didn't stay silent as you said you would."

"Did you truly expect me to?"

"I suppose not."

"You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep."

"What about now?"

"I don't know," she muttered.

"I could tell you a story."

She smiled, "You never did finish the story of Sun and Moon."

"Do you recall where I left off?"

"Yes, Moon kissed Sun when they crossed paths one day."

"Ah, that's right. Sun was unable to reply to Moon's actions as she had set. However, the next day, Sun confessed that she had often longed for Moon's companionship, but had been afraid to tell him so."

"How did Moon respond?"

"He proposed that they begin courting and she accepted. As they continued their love affair, Moon realized that he greatly needed her. See, he was jealous of his brother, even though he loved his brother greatly."

"Why would he feel jealous of his brother when he is intelligent, brave, handsome, witty and creative?"

"He was jealous because his brother was everything he wasn't, everything the people loved. But it did not matter for when he was with Sun, he forgot all of his anxieties and self-doubt. She made him feel whole, as if no other being had the better of him. She was his strength, just as he was hers on occasion.

"But her father did not approve of Moon, for some reason unknown. Despite her greatest efforts, Sun could not persuade him. And so Moon made her a proposition."

"What was it?"

He leaned into her and whispered, "Run away with me, love. Let us leave all those who would tear us apart behind."

Her eyes widened, "You want to run away?"

"We could go anywhere that pleases you and no one could keep us apart. Think of it, Asgard has Thor and Vanaheim has Freyr. Neither worlds have need of us."

"Where would we go?"

"Anywhere. Alfheim, Midgard, some distant world we could call home."

"What of Freyr? And Thor? And your mother would be saddened to see you leave."

"We could tell them where we are so that they could visit us whenever it pleased them."

"Could you truly leave your home and all you know behind?"

"And what of your home?"

"I have no home," she replied without any emotion.

"Then let us create a home for ourselves elsewhere."

She sighed, "Loki, Asgard needs you. Thor needs you. When Thor becomes king, he will need his brother at his side to aid him in times of need."

"Thor will not need me, he has never needed me."

"No, he has always needed you. He may not enjoy showing it, but he cares for you. You are his opposite, his balance."

"Opposites counteract each other."

"But what is one without the other? They cannot exist separately."

"Is this your way of saying you wish to stay?"

"I want nothing more than to be with you, Loki, but I do not think this is the way to gain such."

"And this satisfies you? Never being able to share your happiness with your loved ones?"

She leaned towards him, resting her face on his chest, "You bring me happiness. What more do I need?"

He stayed silent as she closed her eyes with a smile. But, to himself, he wished he could offer her more. He wanted to offer her everything he could. He would simply have to wait to do so.


	13. Chapter 12: Permanently Asunder

**_Song of the Chapter: I Don't Care (feat. Adam Gontier) ~ Apocalyptica_**

* * *

_"Sometimes we expect more from others because we would be willing to do that much for them."_

_ -Anonymous_

* * *

Freyja wanted nothing more than to lie next to Loki until he awoke, to feel the comforting touch of his cool skin against hers. But she needed the closure. She needed to hear the words from her father to finally end it. She wanted to find out whether he would continue to attempt to hide the truth or finally give her the answers she wanted.

While she thought, she worked away idly at the illusion spell cast on Loki, something she had never noticed before her father made it clear. She limited it to his left hand, weakening the charm until a brilliant shade of blue bloomed across his usual pallor like ripples over water. The unique Jotun markings rose above the smooth surface, creating patterns in the cerulean flesh. She traced circular mark across his wrist, wondering what they meant.

He shifted in his sleep, absently pulling her closer to him with the arm wrapped around her waist. She allowed the enchantment to fall back into place and lifted his arm to stand up. He buried his head in the pillow as she moved, a faint smile playing across his lips. His usually orderly hair always splayed out when he slept, sticking up at odd angles. She brushed a few strands out of his eyes before going to the vanity table to write a small note on a scrap of parchment.

Placing it on the pillow that he was on the verge of cuddling with, she walked out quietly. With a few waves of her hand, books, shards of the mirror, and furniture righted themselves. Queen Van's journal flew into her hand, as it had no place in her room. It wasn't as clean as it had been before, but it wasn't a complete disaster, either. When she walked out the door, she noticed her brother was sleeping against the wall, head falling off his hand. Summoning a spare blanket from her room, she draped it over him and continued down the hall.

It was at least an hour from sunrise, allowing Freyja to make her way through the palace with few distractions. It would be nearly noon in Vanaheim, she knew, but her father ate lunch early so she would most likely find him in his study once more. She always found it strange that Odin spent most of his time in the throne room, a room which was rarely used in Vanaheim. As she walked out into the courtyard, she had to stop immediately to keep from knocking Merek over.

"Freyja!" he exclaimed, eyes wide in shock. "I wasn't aware you were awake."

"And I was not aware you had business in the palace at this hour," she added, noting a strange scar under his left ear that hadn't been there before.

"Yes, I have business with King Odin. I wish I could stay and continue this conversation, but I must be going," he said, handing her the journal that had been knocked from her hand when she ran into him. "Here's your journal. Good day, Freyja."

He walked off, leaving her to look at Van's journal before something odd occurred to her.

"Wait! How did-"

She stopped when she realized he could no longer hear her. Looking at the cover, he wondered how he knew it was a journal. He had told her previously that he was not a sorcerer, so how was it that he could read the title? She shook off the strange thought, dismissing the oddity as luck, and began walking in the direction of the Bifrost. Why Thor always believed he needed to ride on horseback down the length of the bridge was beyond her, as it wasn't too long in her eyes.

She could feel the energy trapped within the surface, knowing it was one of the largest sources of power in all the Nine Realms. Its strength was only surpassed by what was within the Muse. She fingered the small blue cube, which she had shrunk for convenience, that was held on the end of the silver chain. It held three times the amount of energy within the rainbow bridge, yet something entirely more sinister. It had become its own creature, tainting those who came in contact with it.

She wondered why she was the only exception. She had patched together the conclusion, during the night, that the destructive nature of halflings, that she should have shone, was counteracted by the corruptive power of the Muse. It wasn't a sturdy hypothesis, but it was the only thing she could think of. The amount of energy from the Muse that ran through her bloodstream should have killed her, yet it was the very thing that kept her alive.

She stopped when she reached the Observatory, gazing out into the space where the fresh water sea that surrounded Asgard fell for eternity until it reached the roots of the Yggdrasil. The stars blazed in the distance, despite the rising sun. The stars were always visible in the Asgard skies, along with all of the Cosmos. She sometimes found herself wishing it could share the same azure skies as Vanaheim. While Asgard attempted to create beauty through the gaudy towers and buildings, Vanaheim had a natural splendor which she missed on occasion.

With a sigh, she walked through the opening that formed the door of the Observatory. Heimdall was waiting for her inside, sword held stiffly in his hands.

"If you'd be so kind to open the gates to Vanaheim, I would be most grateful," she said as she nodded her greeting to the dark-skinned god.

"You know you need not ask, Princess," he replied.

"It is courteous to ask," she answered. "I would rather ask needlessly than demand uncouthly."

A smile almost ghosted across the stoic guardian's mouth, "Very well. Please notify your father that I would prefer he return my vision of Vanaheim."

"You place your faith in the wrong person. No one has the ability to persuade my father when he sets his mind on something," she said as she felt the energy gather.

As her surroundings solidified, she wished she was allowed to use the Muse for travel more often. It was the only form of long-distance travel that was both quick and didn't induce energy-sickness. She knew she couldn't, however, as it sent a beacon to those searching for such a stable source of power.

Her people bowed their heads as she strode towards the looming palace of crystal and quartz ahead. She smiled and bowed her head back in return. There was once a time when her actions attracted their attention, but they had grown used to her belief that they deserved her respect as much as she deserved theirs.

She found the study completely empty, much to her surprise. To the throne room, she thought, walking down the familiar silver halls. She stopped as she passed a gemstone window designed to show a scene from their history. It depicted Odin and her father creating the treaty at the end of the Æsir-Vanir war. It was supposedly a joyful time, but the idea was lost in the mosaic.

She ran her fingers over a large scrape in a ruby square, remembering exactly how Freyr had made it. They had gotten a memorable scolding that day. Shaking her head to dismiss the memory, she returned to her journey to the throne room. Freyja recognized the Vanir representative for the dwarves. The two stopped as they realized she had walked in.

"It is a pleasant surprise to see you here, Princess," he said, bowing. "I was not aware you were to be here."

"It has been a long time, Lord Iliad," she replied, bowing her head as well. "This was, in fact, not a planned visit."

"Do not be afraid to interrupt. Our business has almost reached its conclusion."

"If you do not take offense, I would prefer to wait until you have finished. What I must discuss with my father is a family matter."

The man chuckled, reminding her that the dwarves were known for their sense of humor, "I understand. Family matters often scare off visitors."

She smiled in return and the two continued their conversation on weapons trade. Although her people did not fight, they forged weaponry as well as the dwarves. Trade between her people and the dwarves often consisted of gemstones, metals, spices and techniques. Iliad managed to work out a fairly reasonable exchange before bowing to both and leaving the room.

"I trust this is not simply a pleasure visit," he said, staring down at her with those cold silver eyes.

"I have many questions for you and I trust you to be completely honest with me."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "Ask."

"What is my mother's name?"

She could see the calculation behind the careful mask he held. She knew the answer, of course, but the simple question gave him no room to evade the truth.

"Why do you ask me such a ridiculous query?"

"Answer me," she said firmly. "What is my mother's name?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, "I will not waste my time on such absurdity."

"She was not Queen Van."

"And who told you such a ludicrous tale?"

"It is ludicrous, is it not? How ironic that it is also true," she said softly, pulling out the journal. "Queen Van revealed everything herself."

She could see a muscle twitch in his jaw, "How did you obtain that?"

"It was given to me by an anonymous benefactor. Tell me: did you love Astrid? Or was she simply a distraction?"

He was silent and she continued, placing the journal on the table at the side of the hall.

"Did you love Van? Does it even concern you that you broke her heart?"

She forced herself to look into the empty blue-gray eyes she had known all of her life. Never once had they shown anything more than bland attention. She wanted desperately to make some sign of emotion visible, to scream and vent until a spark of anything could be recognized.

"Answer me," she whispered.

"What is it you wish to hear? You want me to tell you I loved your mother more than anything in the worlds? That it pained me greatly that she died? And what good would that cause, Freyja? Astrid was a mistake, a mistake I have moved on from. You would do well to do the same."

"Is this why you refuse to allow Loki and I to marry? Because you do not want me to make a mistake?"

His face was enough of an answer, causing her to feel sick.

"I am simply a figurehead for you," she said sadly. "You have no use of me besides setting an example to the people. My union with Loki would reflect poorly on yourself."

How could he stay so cold, she wondered as he continued to sit as still as a statue.

"Is that all I amount to in your eyes? But then, what did I expect you to want from a halfling? You couldn't allow the people to know what I was, so you attempted to force me to become what you wanted. Now I know the truth, after nineteen years of deception, and you sit silently as if nothing can touch you."

"Would you prefer I had killed you when I took you? Would that have pleased you? I have given you life, and yet you pretend I am the one at fault in this conversation. Are you so ungrateful?"

"You cannot be ungrateful for what you do not have," she snapped, fighting back tears. "I would rather be dead at this point. Why did you not kill me?"

"You would prove useful."

"So I am no more than a useful tool, awaiting its purpose? Is that all I am? A sacrifice for the good of the Realms, when the time comes? Is that why you have pushed me away my entire life? Because I am a mistake which will right itself in the end?"

"I refuse to answer your questions if you cannot think rationally."

"Is that a yes, then? With you, I honestly cannot tell what your answers are."

"This discussion has reached its conclusion."

"No, it hasn't. I will not leave this room until I have your answers."

"You will do as you're told."

"No, Father, I will not. Tell me this, if not anything else: What do you plan to tell Freyr when the coronation ritual does not accept him?"

He returned to his silence.

"Do not pretend that you did not think of the consequences of bringing me here. I could understand if you had killed me or even if you had left me in Alfheim, but by bringing me here, you acknowledged me as your true heir. Did you not think how that would affect Freyr?"

"I believed the prophecy would have taken affect by now."

"Well, we're nearly upon Freyr's coronation and I am still alive. What do you plan to tell him?"

"I pray Renascentia has arrived by then."

Freyja felt as if her breath had left her. She had known her father had no love for her, but never that he wished her dead. The room almost seemed to spin around her with the very idea. She desperately wanted to hate him for what he had revealed, but she couldn't seem to. All she felt was disappointment.

"I expected more from you," she breathed, a tear trailing down her face.

"What?"

"I expected more from you," she repeated, regaining her voice. "I haven't the slightest idea why, but I expected more from you. Perhaps it was simply wishful thinking, a small hope that you held some form of care for me. Why do I do this to myself?

"Why do I constantly build my hope only for you to drag me down once more? Why do I not learn from the pain? You tear me apart with neither pleasure nor pain, and it wounds me every time."

"What would you prefer?"

"I would prefer you hurt me with a smile on your face than this solemnness you continually show. I would die to know you love me, but I drown in your indifference. Is this what Queen Van felt before she died? Because despite all you have done to disappoint me, I feel as though I am the one who has failed you. And perhaps I have. I have failed to bring life to your cold heart. Am I a failure in your eyes, Father?"

When he was silent, she continued, "Do you wish to know why I left for Asgard when I was young? Why I prefer it to my own home now? It is because you have never allowed this to be my home. I could no longer live under your callous gaze. I could not live with the frigid man who was my father.

"Do you truly have nothing to say to me? Have you no words for your actions?"

"You were not meant to be," he answered. "And you will find your fate soon."

"Will my death justify your mistakes? Can you forget what you have done when my face no longer haunts you?"

"It has always seemed strange to me that you resemble Astrid so much yet you have Van's personality," he said casually.

"I suppose my death will rid you of the memories of two women you lost. Seeing as I matter so little to you, I see no reason not to defy your other rulings."

His face tightened slightly, "You will not court the false Asgardian prince."

"My death is soon upon me, according to you, so it should not matter."

"Freyja," he warned.

"If this is when you tell me I will regret disobeying you, save your words. They mean little to me now. If I drown in your apathy now, at least I know I will drown attempting to reach the shore."

"I will not repeat myself again, Freyja. You are forbidden to see the boy again!"

"Why?" she yelled at him, defiance gleaming in her eyes as she refused to bow down then. "Give me one good reason besides his blood! He is not like his people, he is different! If you only met him, you would approve!"

"I am your father and you will do as you're told!" he replied, matching her tone. "You will marry Odr and you will not object! What in the name of the Wise One do you find wrong with him?"

She felt something unfamiliar surge through her, stronger than passion but as sharp as fire.

"I feel no love towards him," she replied curtly.

"You believe love has anything to do with marriage? Love is an emotion for the other realms, not for us."

"Oh, do tell me what emotions are allowed," she scoffed. "Ever since the end of the war, we have extracted negative emotions and crushed any others we feel. We have turned ourselves into stone out of the belief that we will find tranquility and enlightenment in our apathy. We haven't become wiser, we've become rocks!

"The reason we have not progressed further is because we feel no passion. When we smother our passion, we have no drive! No ambition!"

"Passion is for the foolish."

"And indifference for the ignorant!" she screamed.

"Your time with the Asgardian has corrupted you!"

"It has awakened me to the truth! We hide from our emotions because we are afraid of the damage we caused in anger. But we have made ourselves empty. We are not living, we're existing!"

He scowled, "Would you rather be dead?"

"I'd rather experience life for one day and die the next than live the hollow life you want for me. Do you not wish for me to be happy?"

"Why wouldn't you be happy with Odr?"

"Because I am not happy in his presence now. I will not live my life simply being content! I will not become the vacant automaton you wish me to be!"

"Why is it you must be so stubborn?"

"I am stubborn because I know that this lifestyle we have chosen is wrong. The Wise One gave us feelings when He created us, why should we extinguish them? The only reason you allowed this to go so far is because you were hurt by your own infidelity!"

"You dare-"

She cut him off, unable to stop herself from proving her point, "You were forced into a lackluster marriage so you found the love you craved elsewhere. Your affair with my mother was what killed both her and your wife!"

"Silence!"

She automatically stepped back, suddenly realizing she had gone too far.

"It is not your place to speak of such!"

"But it is the truth and it deserves to be told as such rather than in whispered rumors. Does Freyr even know that I am his half-sister, at the very least?"

"You will not tell your brother of this!"

She nodded, "You're right, I won't. But you will."

He paled, "He does not need to know what is not important."

"But he deserves to know anyway! We need to stop running from the truths we don't approve of. How can we call ourselves wise if we shun the shadows that dance among light? You cannot claim to understand the world if you ignore half of it."

"Enough of this nonsense! You will forget about the boy, you will marry Odr, you will be content with the life I have chosen for you and you will thank me for it! This discussion is over."

She paused, thinking through what she was about to do, "You're right. This discussion is over.

"I will not marry Odr and I will not hide from what I feel. As I am illegitimate, and therefore not fully of noble blood, the laws of marriage have no control over me. I have no more strength to withstand your rulings over my life. If you cannot accept me for how I am, then I have no place in this family."

She slipped the solid gold ring, the one that identified her as the king's daughter, off her hand and placed it on the small table next to her that stood under the tapestry of the royal family. The first ring was quickly followed by the star-emblazoned silver band that marked her as Queen Van's daughter, an identity that she had no right to.

"I will not trouble you any longer," she bowed stiffly. "May the Wise One ensure your safety and prosperity. Farewell, King Njord."

She turned swiftly and walked out, feeling his skeptical gaze on her as she left the room. Despite the tense argument, Freyja felt the waves of sadness rush over her at the idea that their relationship had ended this way. Part of her thought he would come out and call her back.

As she reached the end of the hall, she realized he wasn't going to. He had rejected her, accepted her denouncement of their ties. Tears blinded her sight as she continued on her way.

"Princess!" she heard someone call from her side.

She turned to recognize Hakon, the man who had attempted to help her so long ago. He had been a servant of her father's before she was born, becoming a head of castigation once Van had died. He glanced back at the throne room before turning back to her.

"Princess, I beg your forgiveness."

"There is no need. You have only ever helped me," she replied, forcing a smile.

"No, Princess. I knew the truth," he said, stumbling over the words in an earnest attempt to apologize. "I knew Astrid and what became of her, but I was sworn to secrecy. I cannot say exactly what happened between them nor speak of your nature to those who do not know. Still, I ask for your forgiveness for remaining silent."

"There was nothing you could do."

"I feel as though I should repay you for my mistake."

"Do not bother yourself. You owe me nothing."

He opened the box shakily, showing her the contents, "Your father knew he could never continue his life with Astrid. However, he still made attempts to keep her safe. This is Brisingamen, the necklace he forged and enchanted to protect her. She died before I could deliver it."

She looked down at the rows of platinum beads that created the necklace. It seemed to shine with the strength of the sun, glinting even when there was no light to reflect off it.

"I was unable to deliver it to her or tell you of the truth, but I can give you this. Please forgive me, Princess."

He kneeled, head bowed, as he presented it to her. Taking his hands, she pulled him up once more.

"There is nothing to forgive," she said, picking the necklace out of the box. "Thank you for your kindness."

He nodded before rushing of, no doubt to hide the now empty box. She looked down at the necklace in her hand, still wondering what exactly her father had felt towards her mother. Glancing back at the hall in hopes her father would come out, she closed her eyes as she tried to persuade herself that there was no use in hoping.

She walked out of the palace, making her way to a clearing close by.

"Heimdall," she whispered. "Please open the Bifrost."

A rush of lights and the tug of energy was all she could comprehend before she back in the Observatory.

"Thank you, Heimdall," she breathed, ignoring the lingering energy sickness, as he watched her sadly.

She walked quickly back to the castle and into her chambers. Loki was gone, leaving an explanation of his own whereabouts on the back of her note. She walked back into the sitting room of her chambers, only to find herself staring at a tapestry of her supposed family. She closed her eyes at the sight, pulling it down as it didn't belong. A knock on the door caused her to look up.

"Freyja?" she recognized her brother's voice. "May I come in now?"

She opened the door to see a fairly tired Freyr holding the blanket she had given him that morning.

"Loki said you went to speak with Father, so I waited to return this."

She took the blanket from him, "You should come in. There is something important you should know."

He walked in, face somber as he sensed her mood. She took a seat and he took the chair across from her.

"I told Father I would not tell you, but I fear he will never show you the truth if I leave it to him," she began gathering the courage to speak as he looked at her with sad eyes.

And so she told him. She explained all that she had learned and how it affected him. She confessed her sorrow for what she would cause him and relayed their father's argument with her. The entire time, he remained silent and carefully controlled. When she had finished, she looked up at him with a silent plea that he would say something.

She closed her eyes as he continued to remain quiet, wondering if she had just pushed away her brother. She heard him stand up and begin walking but she didn't dare open her eyes out of fear he would be walking away. His hands closed gently around her wrists, pulling her up. She opened her eyes in time to see him embrace her, pulling her close with a sigh.

"I thought you would be upset with me," she whispered.

"This is not your fault, Freyja," he muttered back. "I could never blame you for this. Besides, halfling or not, you are still my sister. Nothing will ever change that."

Freyja couldn't count how long they stayed like that but when he pulled away, there was a mock look of seriousness on her face.

"But do not ever refuse to speak to me when such news ails you again, do you understand?"

She smiled at him, "Forgive me. I did not know how to tell you."

"I understand," he replied, pulling her close once more. "What will I do when I lose you?"

"You will be a great King and bring your dreams to reality."

"A shame cannot take the throne. You would make an excellent Queen."

She shook her head, "You know I've never wanted the throne."

"I know. But I stand by my opinion. The throne would suit you well."


	14. Chapter 13: Reality of Myths

_"Never believe the bad guy is dead until you see a body. That just leads to unhappiness and surprise ambushes."_

_ ~Cassandra Clare_

* * *

Freyja found it strange how much had changed in the week since she confronted her father. She felt oddly lighter, as if a weight had been taken from her shoulders, and it was as if she had more freedom. Freyr had started to treat their father with a slight disapproving manner, often only speaking to him when necessary. However, since Freyja had washed her hands of her father, she felt relatively better. Though it still stung when someone would mention his name.

And yet Freyja had other problems to worry over. She continuously caught the trace of the lemon and rosemary magic signature, as well as the occasional hint of something poisonous and unfamiliar. She attempted several tracking and recognition spells, but to no avail. Her mysterious followers were as elusive as smoke. There was, on a more mundane level, one woman who had become an increasingly troublesome predicament: Sigyn.

It surprised her to no end that a single Asgardian noblewoman, neither an important member of the court nor a shield-maid, could cause such exasperation. Had Loki never told her of why the blonde was antagonizing her, Freyja would have chalked it up to envy. Of course, it was envy that drove Sigyn, envy of Loki. Though she had only the rumors for proof, Sigyn was determined to scare Freyja away from Loki. It was actually somewhat amusing.

But her problems only evolved the night Freyja was wandering through the courtyard. She found that she couldn't sleep for fear of the memories of her father that taunted her subconscious, so she prolonged her rest as much as possible. She hadn't been expecting anyone to follow her, especially not Sif.

Her friendship with Sif was a strange one. The two shared little in common yet had forged a strong bond as two of the most powerful women within Asgard's borders. Though she had little interest in magic, Sif held Freyja's abilities in high respect and the two often joked in private over the men.

It was this that caused Freyja surprise when Sif arrived with a solemn, resigned look on her face.

"Sif," she called, turning around. "I was not aware you were awake at this hour."

"I was looking for you," the dark-haired goddess admitted. "Your chambers were empty, but Loki said you often came here at night."

"Yes, but only recently. Is there something I can assist you with?"

Sif sat down on a golden bench surrounded by lilies of red and orange, "I wish to ask for advice."

"In…?"

"Love."

Freyja sat down next to her friend, eyebrows raised in surprise, "You wish for advice in love?"

"Many have come to you with their troubles and all have left satisfied. I simply thought if anyone could aid me, it would be you."

"This is about Thor, is it not?"

She turned to stare in surprise, "You know?"

"I am the goddess of love, Sif. And I have known you since we were young. It comes quite easily for me to notice who is in love, though Hogun was particularly difficult."

"Hogun was in love?"

"Once, when I first arrived."

"What happened?"

"Fandral saw her and immediately took her to bed. Hogun had never told anyone until that night, when he asked me for my thoughts. I told him she was not meant to be with him, for she would not have instantly agreed to Fandral's offer if she was, and that he will find a woman for him eventually."

"Eventually?"

"I cannot give exact dates, Sif. I may see the future but nothing is set in stone. Just as Fandral will find a woman who can control him and Volstagg will marry a cook, Hogun will find a quiet and compassionate woman to call his wife. That much, I have seen."

"And what of Thor and I?"

Freyja shook her head, "Thor is not ready to so much as think of courting women. His only love, as of this moment, is glorious adventure. Allow him to settle and you will find it easier to gain his attention."

"That could be centuries," she sighed, looking rather irate at the idea.

"You'll have to be patient if you wish to marry Thor. Patience or incredible stubbornness."

"I think we both know which of the two I have," she said with a smile.

Giving a soft chuckle, she looked at the warrior, "The hour is late. You should retire for the day."

"And what of you?"

"I must find peace before I rest. A few hours under the stars will do me good."

Sif nodded, though Freyja knew she did not fully understand, "Goodnight, Freyja."

"Goodnight," she said as she watched her friend return to the castle.

Letting out a sigh, she leaned her back on a tree which stood behind the bench, closing her eyes against the darkness. She felt on edge, as if she should be waiting for something. Was her father right? Would Renascentia begin soon? She couldn't find it in herself to delve into the question too deeply.

"Searching for respite?" a familiar voice behind her said.

She turned to see the familiar supernova eyes of Merek shining in the darkness. He sat down beside her, black leather almost invisible against the night.

"In a way," she answered. "What brings you to the palace?"

"I wished to gain an audience with you."

"At this hour?"

He shrugged, "I heard rumors of your recently sleepless nights."

"It seems you hear many rumors," she said in her own language, testing a question of hers.

"Rumors are common among the people," he replied, Asgardian accent slipping on the words of her language.

He stopped suddenly, turning to look at her in surprise as if he hadn't realized his mistake until then.

"You speak with someone of Vanaheim roots often if you subconsciously switch languages with such ease," she said, reverting to the Asgardian language. "Just who is your companion?"

"You know of him," he said, a sharp edge in his words.

"And this man has a magical signature of lemon and rosemary?" she guessed.

He raised his hand, a murky yellow aura flaring to life, "That would be me."

"You were not lying when you claimed to not be a sorcerer. You have very little training, too little to classify yourself as a wielder of magic. So, tell me, who was it who obtained Queen Van's journal for you?"

"The same man who awakened me to magic and taught me the language of the people. He has sent me to speak with you."

"Why?"

"He wants answers, and he has offered me a grand prize if I obtain these answers."

"I have no interest in answering your friend's questions. If he seeks answers, he may request an audience with the Norns."

"Ah, but the answers he seeks are not known to the Norns. Only you carry these answers, it is your birthright."

Freyja felt as if the gold and silver ring she wore on her index finger suddenly weighed more than the world itself. She knew what he was after, but also knew what she couldn't do.

"You have no right to these answers."

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement," he suggested in a teasing tone.

"Perhaps I will summon the guards."

She stood up, stopping only when his hand clamped down on her wrist, "I would not suggest that."

Freyja's heart sunk as some of the shadows moved, revealing several dark corpse-like creatures. If the only ones there were the ones visible to her, there were seven of the beasts. She pulled her wrist from Merek's grasp, burning it as she did. With a field of energy forming around her, she waited for one of them to attack. But she knew the truth. She wouldn't be able to overpower all eight, not even with her knowledge of magic. She was going to fight a battle she had already lost.

* * *

Loki could see the light flash across the sky through the dark curtains that covered his window. He rolled over on the sheets, guessing that it was Thor showing off with lightning once more. Another flash illuminated the darkness of the room as if the curtains were nothing more than parchment. Loki stood up, muttering darkly about Thor's thoughtless habits, and walked towards the window.

"What in the name of Bor is he doing?" he muttered as he threw back the satin curtains and opened the window.

The scene below him caused him to stare in surprise, not quite believing what he was seeing. Thor was nowhere in sight, but flashes of silver energy crashed towards a group of people below in the courtyard. It seemed as though the group was closing in around the one person in the middle, who seemed to be the origin of the energy. If he looked closely, the center being might have had red hair. It took a minute for him to piece together the moment in his drowsy state.

"Uskit'r*" he exclaimed, running out of the room while hastily using magic to clothe him in his usual leather and armor.

Running down the stairs three at a time, he yelled for some guards to help. Summoning knives through magic, the same ones from the set Freyja had given him for his birthday, he prepared himself for whatever he would face as he burst through the doors to the courtyard.

Freyja's assailants were closer to her, causing her to turn and knock back anyone who came too close. He could tell she was tiring, but she continued to send wave after wave of concentrated energy at the creatures that were most decidedly not of Asgard. Her eyes went wide as she spotted him.

"Loki, do no-"

She broke off as one of the creatures struck her at the base of her skull with a staff. Her eyes rolled back into her head before she collapsed forward, falling into the arms of a man Loki recognized as Merek. He turned away from Loki with a sly smirk, leaving the creatures to take care of him.

"You've lost, Odinson," he heard Merek laugh. "She is mine now."

Loki charged one of the beasts, slicing a deep cut across its chest. He could just hear the arrival of the guards, and Thor who must have heard the chaos, as they joined the fight. Now at a disadvantage, the creatures were slain easily, if not quickly. When the last beast had fallen, Loki gazed over the mess of corpses and blood in search of Merek. Only silence and darkness greeted his eyes.

"Freyja!" he called, turning in circles as if she would appear with the blink of an eye.

"Brother," Thor said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What happened here?"

"He took her," he muttered. "He took Freyja."

"Who?"

"Merek."

Thor's eyes widened, "Ulricson?"

"I looked out and she was fighting these. I came too late…"

"We'll find her, Loki. For now, we must alert Father."

Loki nodded, sparing the courtyard one last glance before following Thor into the palace once more.

* * *

Freyja had never seen such darkness before. The room, or wherever she was, was completely obscured from her view by a darkness so thick it seemed tangible. She could feel cold stone beneath her, the edges damp with condensation. Darkness and cold, it seemed to swallow the room whole. A sharp pain in her head as she looked around reminded her just what happened. Placing her hand on the back of her neck, she could feel the sticky texture of half-dried blood.

She didn't dare move, as she couldn't see her surroundings, nor did see illuminate the space through magic for fear she was not alone. Just as she wondered what had happened after she lost consciousness, light poured in from an opening. She squinted against the harsh light, barely making out a door and tall, stocky figure. As the door closed behind it, she could make out bright blue eyes that matched her own.

"Princess Freyja," a cold voice said. "It is an honor to meet you at last."

"If you wished to meet, you could have simply sent a letter and we could have worked something out."

He laughed, flames bursting to life in his hand. She stared at the large, purple-skinned man who stood before her. He wore cobalt leather trousers and a shirt with golden armor to accent it. A dark helmet covered his head, obscuring everything above his prominent brow.

"Do you know who I am, young princess?"

"Thanos of Titan," she answered, remembering her lessons when she became protector of secrets. "You poisoned your own body to learn to control the Muse. For crimes against the realm, you were exiled with no logical form of escape."

"It took an appalling amount of time to find you," he said with a grin. "I can honestly say I did not expect Njord to give his daughter such a dangerous task."

"Njord harbors no care for me," she explained, keeping her voice unnaturally level.

"He always was a cold one when he wished to be. Now, tell me, where is the Muse?"

She allowed herself a smile, "Not here."

A hand cracked across her cheek, causing her to bite her tongue.

"Do not waste my time. Is it on Vanaheim?"

"Does it matter? You will not find it."

"I have little patience for games so I will offer you two choices: you tell me all you know and I end your suffering or you may keep silent and I'll allow Merek to entertain himself. What is your decision?"

"I do not fear you."

She watched as the teasing charade fell from the titan's face. It seemed he had a fairly short temper, despite living on Vanaheim temporarily. She wondered how long he would wait before he killed her in anger. A hand closed around her throat and she began to consider the possibility of not living through the hour.

"You will tell me, princess, or I shall keep you in eternal agony. Pain will mean little compared to what I will show you."

"Idle threats," she managed to gasp. "My death has been foretold. I fear little anymore."

Suddenly the smile fell into place once more, "A friend of Death? I can promise, in my care, you will never feel its sweet embrace.

"Merek!"

The door opened once more, revealing a fairly bruised Merek. He bowed to Thanos before speaking.

"You called, my lord?"

"I have work to attend to. Why don't you keep Freyja company while I am away?"

"With pleasure, Lord Thanos."

Thanos released his hold on her, causing her to slide to the floor. He walked out, leaving Merek to magically light the candles which were scattered throughout the room.

"Your form is sloppy," she noted, standing up. "I've never seen such a poorly taught student."

He laughed, eyes slightly wild, "You cannot goad me, Freyja. Why don't I enlighten you while we wait for Thanos's return?"

He knocked lightly on the door, causing two large men, possibly fire Jotuns, to enter. She didn't resist as they dragged her out of the room, as she knew she would need her energy for later. Merek followed them, whistling an unfamiliar tune as if it was a normal occurrence. They brought her to a well-lit room with a metal cot and shackles. It looked as if it had never been used.

"Thanos tells me your people fear scars as they block your ability to shape-shift," Merek said as they chained her to the table. "He says that scar tissue requires stable DNA, which is something the Vanir lack. And, to keep from losing their abilities, they heal wounds as soon as possible."

He picked up a long, thin knife, watching the light reflect off of it, "He also says your people cannot touch iron without gaining burns."

"Is that why you've joined Thanos? To gain intelligence?"

"Oh, no," he answered earnestly. "Though the knowledge on your people is fascinating, he offered me something much more precious."

"And what would that be?" she asked, watching the knife.

"Once you have given Thanos all he desires, you will be my prize. Your beauty and kindness is renowned throughout the Realms. Any man with good sense longs for your hand in marriage."

"You could have asked. At the time, I might have considered it."

"I couldn't, actually, as you were engaged to Animi. He was an obstacle in my way, so I disposed of him."

"Volund murdered him. You are a fool to attempt to deceive me on something I witnessed firsthand."

"He died by Volund's hand, but do you not find it curious that he did not recognize you?"

She remained silent, wondering where he was going in his little speech.

"The drunkard's mind was weak and easily manipulated. A simple alteration and he no longer realized who you were until I allowed it. His bloodlust continued for me."

"Such an alteration requires a powerful sorcerer, which you are clearly not."

She felt the cold burn of the iron blade as he barely traced the knife along the skin on her left arm.

"Thanos taught me, wishing to aid me in my task. As I was saying, once Animi was out of the way, I thought you mine for the taking. And yet I found your father favored Odr and Thor out of all your suitors. Thor would not have married you in any case, so I turned to Odr instead. A slip into his mind and he was easily coerced into leaving you be. But I was still kept from you by Prince Loki.

"It was Thanos who learned of your silent affair with Loki and your true nature. Believing Lord Loki would find disgust in a halfling, I asked Thanos to retrieve Van's journal from Njord's chambers. Following you through the castle, I allowed you to find it.

"My plans went fairly well from there, as the results were quite spectacular. However, Loki must share my beliefs on you and the truth only seemed to strengthen his interest. Unable to find a new way to obtain you, Thanos offered me a deal. Abduct you, gain answers, and you would be mine alone."

"You have allowed yourself to be blinded to the truth, Merek. When he has received what he wants, he will kill me. Then you will be left with nothing."

She cried out in surprise as the knife sliced deep into her flesh, burning as it cut through muscles and tendons. He cut through the silk gown she wore, leaving her in only her white chemise.

"It is a shame that you are not a maiden," he sighed, replacing the knife before picking up a new one with a serrated edge. "However, as I said before, your experience causes you to be all the more alluring."

He walked around to the opposite side of her cot, running the fingers of his free hand over her own.

"A shame I will have to mar your beauty with such scars. I suppose a few will not tarnish you."

She felt him run the blade vertically down her hand, causing countless nerves to scream in protest. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming, causing blood to fill her mouth.

"Do you not understand? Answers are the key to freedom. Answer the questions Thanos asks you and he will allow you to live."

She cursed in her people's language.

"Such a filthy mouth," he muttered, cutting into her cheek.

She knew she could use magic to escape. She could have easily left Merek in the state of a vegetable, but she would have never reached the outside world. In order to escape, she would need a plan. But she couldn't think straight with the burn of iron against her skin.

"How do you keep silent?" he asked, almost as if she could answer through the pain.

"You've gone mad," she whispered as he paused. "Whatever Thanos has done to you, I might be able to help you."

"Thanos has done nothing save help me. He gave me power when I was weak and aid when I was lost. I will not tolerate you speaking ill of him."

He dragged the dagger from the base of her neck to the tip of her breastbone, causing her to see white. With a sigh, he dropped the knife onto the table against the wall. Unlocking the manacles, he pulled her off the table. She fell to the floor, dizzy from blood loss.

"Get up," he snarled, wrapping his fingers in her and tugging.

Struggling against his grasp, Freyja attempted to pull away from Merek. He ended up dragging her by her hair, down the hall and back into the cold cell she had woke up in. Dropping her unceremoniously, she clenched her jaw to keep from groaning at the force of the fall. He tilted her face up to his a he kissed her, only jumping back as she bit him.

Wiping the blood from his lip, he turned to leave, "Thanos will return for you. I suggest submitting when he does, for he is not as merciful as I."

He slammed the door behind him, leaving her to quickly heal the wounds he had created. Her mangled hand took more energy than the rest, but she made quick work of it. She noticed a tray of bread and water in the corner as she scanned the room. With a simple charm, she realized it was drugged. Thanos did not want her using magic for the duration of her stay. She sent the tray flying with a swift kick, causing a startled squeak from where it landed.

Freyja allowed herself a smile at her luck. She could not be sure how long she would wait for the opportune moment to escape, but she would not be completely defenseless. Where there was life, there was energy, and she could sustain herself on the energy of the creatures that scurried across the floor of her cell. She would wait and see if Thanos truly had the patience needed to keep her captive. She was certain he would reach his limit within a month.

* * *

_*** Norse equivalent of "Oh, sh*t" and one of the more mundane Norse cuss words.**_


	15. Chapter 14: Desperate Measures

**_Hi everyone. Just a quick author's note before I start. I'm not going to delve too deeply into the torture, as I want to keep this story from reaching rated M. Also, can anyone tell me the difference between a view and a visitor, because I can't think of what the difference would be? On a rather unrelated note, I apparently have about eight constant readers for this story. As much as I appreciate your silent encouragement, a review would mean the world to me. Ask Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl who has reviewed every single chapter. Please and thanks!_**

**_Song of the Chapter: Missing ~ Evanescence_**

* * *

_"He who controls others may be powerful, but he who has mastered himself is mightier still."_

_ -Lao Tzu_

* * *

It was strange, in the Asgardians' eyes, that Freyja's abduction had affected Loki, her long-time friend, so little. In truth, had it not been for Loki's mastery of hiding his emotions, they would have found just how anxious the search was making him. It had been three weeks and he was ready to pull out his hair. There wasn't the slightest sign of where they were. The tracking spells they had attempted were useless. It was almost as if Merek had disappeared into Hel, taking Freyja with him.

Odin had sent messengers to each of the Nine Realms, but none had returned with any good news. When Frigga sent a letter to Njord on Freyja's unknown whereabouts, there was no response from the king. Frigga believed this was caused from his grief or his own search for his daughter, but Loki and Freyr knew the truth. The Vanaheim king did not reply because he had more important matters to deal with than the wayward daughter he held little control over.

While Loki felt as if he was going mad, Freyr looked as if he truly had lost his mind. Using his sister's Muse necklace, he would disappear for a few days before returning to Asgard for a quick rest and disappearing once more. No one knew where he went but whenever he returned, he always looked battered, weary and starved. When asked where he had gone, he always answered the same.

"Past the furthest reaches of the Realms," he would say with his eyes closed.

No one knew what to make of the Prince's response, so it became marked off as another riddle. When Loki would ask, Freyr would say that it was Freyja's choice to tell him or not. Knowing that the Vanir meant well, he kept his anger reigned in. But the answer did nothing but push him closer to the edge.

He worried for her, for what she could be going through. She could have been dead, for all he knew, after those three long weeks. Thor would often drag him to the training fields to get his mind off of her, but it never worked. He only ended up worried _and_ bruised.

He nearly reached wit's end as he paced in his room one morning, trying to think of an area they had yet to check. A light knock on the door barely caused him to pause in his thoughts.

"I'm in no mood for distractions," he answered, continuing where he had left off.

The door opened and shut, "Not even for the ones I have to offer?"

Loki stopped dead, train of thought crashing to an end as if it had hit a wall. There was only one woman in the Nine Realms who spoke in that tone, the earnest curiosity that he had enjoyed for a time.

"Is there something I can aid you with, Sigyn?" he asked, not turning to face her.

"No. However, there is something I can help you with."

"I do not require your assistance," he answered, sitting down in a black leather chair and pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes.

He felt her hands on his shoulders, massaging the stiff muscles, "You are stressed, Loki. Allow me to dissipate the stress for you."

Pulling away from her grasp, he stood up to face her, "No. What we had, Sigyn, was little more than the relationship between Fandral and one of his concubines. It was entertaining, but I have grown from that."

"You cannot tell me that you do not want this," she scoffed.

"Yes, I can."

Rushing towards him with a desperate look on her face, she wrapped her hands in his hair and pulled his face down to kiss him. He pushed her away roughly, practically snarling in outrage.

"Despite what you believe, I am currently courting someone," he snapped.

"You're the god of mischief and lies, Loki; surely a little infidelity would fall under your jurisdiction."

"Strange words from the goddess of fidelity. God of lies and mischief I may be, but I will not betray her."

"What is it about that Vanir that you so desperately love?" she asked disdainfully. "What does she hold that I do not? I love you, Loki. Is that not enough?"

"You don't love me," he answered coolly. "You believe you love me but this is not love."

"I was there for you when you grieved for your wife. Where was the Vanaheim wench when you needed her?"

"Her absence was required of her people. She was unaware I had ever married."

"And yet you cling to her as if she was salvation. Are you aware that you are not her first lover? She has been very fickle with her love. Her number of lovers rivals even that of Fandral's. Who is to say she would remain faithful to you?"

Loki felt his jaw tighten in irritation. He had accepted the fact when Freyja had told him, but that didn't stop his jealousy. Sigyn throwing the idea of Freyja being unfaithful was similar to a slap in the face. He knew it was possible, as he could not fathom any reason for Freyja to remain with him.

"I have no more patience to listen to your prattling. I suggest you leave with your dignity."

"I am not going anywhere," she answered, crossing her arms.

Walking towards her, he grabbed the back of her collar and began to drag her out of the room. Her protests did little against his grip and he soon discarded her into the hall, locking the door behind her. He could hear her muffled yelling and her fists hitting the wood, but ignored it. Something on his desk had caught his eye.

It was a lock of gray hair, standing out drastically against the pale parchment. When he picked it up, he noticed the dried blood matting it together. His eyes widened as he recognized the texture as Freyja's. He could sense the faint trace of magic, the sea breeze, and wildflowers on the curl. Dropping it on his desk, he returned to the maps of where they had searched. The single lock of hair had been enough to renew his ambition tenfold. He had to find her.

* * *

Freyja leaned her head against the cold stone wall of her cell, trying to stay conscious. She couldn't tell how long it had been, as there were no windows within the areas of her prison that she had seen. She did know, however, that she had to leave soon.

Her hair had turned gray from excess use in magic with little energy, but she had no choice. At the end of every session with Thanos or Merek, she was forced to heal the wounds before they formed scars. For a long time, they had continued to send the drugged food. She had used this to sustain the rat-like creatures that kept her company, taking the majority of their energy but feeding them so they did not die. Apparently Thanos had grown aware of it, however, as he soon stopped sending meals entirely.

She had not slept or eaten for the duration of her stay. She had made the mistake of dozing off early in her stay, only to wake up to the sharp fire of a whip on her back. Her strength was waning, but she had yet to reveal anything to Thanos. Merek had been correct to say that Thanos was much more brutal. When she had laughed in his face to keep from crying, he had rewarded her with a burning coal to her left eye. She had lost the entirety of her sight through it, though no scars would form. Her sight, she knew, required the healing property of one of the many tinctures she kept in her room.

She had sustained broken bones, tarnished muscles, deep wounds, poisoned daggers, iron burns, severe frostbite, cruel whips, energy poisoning, and the lick of flames against her skin. Her only comfort was that Thanos grew more and more agitated as she remained silent under her punishments. Though her screams would echo through the halls, not a word on the Muse was given. She had come to appreciate the cold darkness of her cell, as it signaled a short respite from the constant torment. But even the pauses between tortures were not enough. Soon, she knew, she would either go mad or die.

As the door opened once more, she allowed the two guards to drag her out and into a new room. She had learned soon that she reserved more energy by submitting to their force. There was a single iron post in the far corner, to which they chained her. She hung her head in exhaustion, waiting for Merek or Thanos to enter. The latter was the one to come into the room.

"I have been searching for traces of the Muse's energy," he said, picking up a multi-tailed whip with iron barbs embedded into the leather. "Do you know what I found?"

She threw her head back with a cry as the strips of leather came down on her back, iron burning as it cut her skin.

"There have been several high readings on various lands outside the Nine Realms."

White hot pain lanced up her body as he struck another blow, warm blood flowing down the white chemise she still wore.

"Someone is searching for you and I want to know who that being is."

Another lash of the whip pried a scream from her lips.

"Is it your father?"

Another blow.

"Answer me."

She could hear his grasp tighten on the leather handle of the whip.

"My father cares not for me," she spat, panting.

"Your brother then?" he demanded as the whip fell across her flesh once more.

"I don't know," she screamed between blows.

"Whoever it is, they are very desperate to find you," another blow came. "I have had to double the enchantments around this area to ensure he or she did not come here. Now, who is it?"

Another scream fell from her lips as the iron tore deeper into her skin.

"Several tracking spells have been attempted, all of which I've had to reflect. Who is so persistent in finding you?"

"The whole of Asgard could be searching for all I know," she answered before the words converted into a startled cry.

"Is it the Asgardian Prince?"

She remained silent, not wanting Loki to be dragged into the fray. Her quiet earned her another blow. She felt as if she would be sick, but she knew she wouldn't on an empty stomach.

"Is it?"

"I do not have eyes in Asgard!"

One last blow reached her back as he sighed. She shuddered as she heard him place the whip back onto the table of weapons he kept in every room.

"I will return later. For now, I must strengthen the enchantments once more."

He left, slamming the door behind him. With the room empty, Freyja allowed the little energy she had to heal the wounds on her back. Weak coils of her aura extended around her, barely rising an inch off her skin. Extending her mind, she recognized her rather absentminded guards coming and Thanos far away from her. To her surprise, few of the strange, barely humanoid, creatures Thanos employed where near. With a weak smile, she waited for her guards to enter.

When they did come into the room, she felt a pang of disgust at what she was planning. However, she knew that no one would find her and if she wanted to escape, she needed to take advantage of the opportunity. As soon as they unchained her, she forced herself into their minds.

They hissed in surprise, but Thanos had apparently decided not to teach them to defend themselves mentally. It made since, seeing as if they did know, he would be unable to manipulate them. They submitted quickly to her whims, one leading her out of the room while the other walked behind her.

It was only when they were halfway to an exit that she ran into her first problem. Merek, who was holding what looked like a slice of bread, stopped as he saw them.

"What-"

He was cut off as she willed her first guard to pick him up by the neck and toss him down the hall.

"I'm afraid I'm far too busy to explain, Merek," she snapped as she passed. "Pass on my condolences to Thanos on my inability to extend my stay."

With a quick spell, the Asgardian slumped against the wall and into unconsciousness. She did not envy him when the time came to inform Thanos. The few other creatures that came her way were quickly incapacitated by her guards, but she could sense the oncoming men as she grew closer to her freedom. Leaving her guards to fight the groups that stood in her way, she used her remaining energy to break a hole in the final wall.

Crisp air flooded into the room as she ran out into the bright morning light. She held her grasp on her guards' minds until she was halfway to the tree line in the distance. Their heavy footsteps against the strange white ground echoed through the emptiness, spears and arrows flying past her in attempt to wound her. Had she the energy to, she would have transformed into a bird or horse and escaped quickly. As she rushed through the pale grayish-white woods, she spared a glance over her shoulder.

An arrow lodged itself into her abdomen, causing her to stumble. She continued to run, ignoring the pain lancing through her side. Deciding she couldn't run much further, Freyja grabbed a low branch on one of the trees and swung herself up. Continuing up the tree, she stopped at a branch almost three times as high as she was tall. Leaning against the trunk, she watched with a faint smile the creatures rush off through the woods.

Her smile faded when she attempted to drain a little energy from the tree. It was as hollow as a rock, as if it wasn't alive. Snapping off the head of the arrow, she pulled the remaining half out of her torso. Ripping the majority of her skirt off, she made a makeshift tourniquet for the wound. If she didn't find an ally in the dead woods, she was going to die. Knowing there was no escaping until the guards returned to their base, she allowed herself drift to sleep until she knew it was safe.

The memories which filled her short-lived rest were of her, Loki, Thor, Sif, and the three playing in the forests of Asgard when they had been young. It was a fleeting memory, as her sleep was not deep. As she opened her eyes once more, she realized it was just after noon. Guessing the guards had given up on their search, she slid down the tree clumsily.

She felt worse than she had for the entirety of her stay with Thanos. The arrow she had discarded had no doubt punctured something vital, she had no energy to heal it, and her head was beginning to spin. Everything in sight seemed to be the same shade of gray-white as the trees and ground. Her feet stumbled across the forest floor, causing her to nearly trip many times.

Stopping to lean against a tree, she had the faintest feeling that she was going to die in whatever gods-forsaken land Merek had dragged to. She knew she had to continue if she wanted to find anyone to aid her, but she felt as if she would collapse. Gritting her teeth, she continued onward. She knew for a fact that Thanos wouldn't use a tracking spell with her so close, so she didn't worry about the idea.

Licking her cracked lips, she wondered if there was any water in the strange forest. Despite seeing the rat-like creatures within her cell, she had not come across any other animals. The only plants she could see were the stone-like trees. The quiet was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

She tripped on the root of a tree, falling into the hard ground. Rolling over painfully, she looked up at the pale sky. It seemed as if the whole of the world she was on consisted of objects in varying shades of white. Too tired to stand up once more, Freyja allowed herself to drift off. She succumbed to her weariness in seconds.

* * *

Through the white of the abandoned world, a single being cloaked in black darted through the tree like a shadow. When the sun did manage to hit his dark armor through the thick coat, it barely reflected off the unpolished surface. Locks of white hair escaped from the hood, tucked back into place by a pale gray hand every few minutes. He had heard the sound of intruders on his land, a sound he knew very well from when he was young. It had once been the world he and his people inhabited, until the purple giant had arrived.

Pulling a white flower out of his pocket, he blew on it gently. As if carried on a nonexistent wind, the flower flew from his hand and forward, multiplying as it did so. He followed the swarm of flowers, armored feet barely making a noise against the hard ground. He stopped when he saw where the flowers had landed.

It was a young woman with silvery-gray hair in a torn white gown. Blood stained the left side of her abdomen, standing out against the white world. Her skin was deathly pale while her face was gaunt as if she hadn't eaten in days. Dark circles adorned her eyes, contrasting with the sickly white skin. He watched in shock as the flowers that came in contact with her skin shriveled and died as her hair began to turn a vivid shade of red. It was then that he realized what she was.

"Vanir," he whispered in awe.

It was a word told only in legends, stories told of histories almost forgotten. Looking in the direction of the strange hall that the giant had built when he arrived, he knew it was the only place she could have come from. By the looks of her, it didn't look as if she had been a guest. Placing two fingers against the inside of her wrist, he felt a faint pulse. With one arm at her shoulder blades and under her knees, he scooped her up and walked back in the direction he had come.

He continued deeper into the woods, finally coming to an archway made by two intertwined trees before a towering wall of stone similar to that on the ground. At a glance, it looked as if nothing lay behind the archway. The man, however, knew better and shouldered the painted canvas aside to walk through.

Past the canvas was a white stone hall with empty doorways leading to various rooms. Long ago, it was a place of family and friends and warmth. Sometimes, if he listened carefully, he could still hear the laughter and chatter that had once filled the chambers. Walking past the large table and chairs, most covered in a thick layer of dust, he entered a small room to the side. The room was fairly empty besides the bed covered in hand-woven blankets, the little table beside it and the chair next to the fireplace.

He placed her gently on the bed, pulling the blankets up around her. Rushing to the large pile of books in the corner of the room, he ran his long fingers over the spines until he reached the correct one. He pulled it out of the pile, making sure not to topple the rest over, and flipped through the pages until he came to an illustration of a tall, thin being with dark skin, black hair and silver eyes. Comparing it to the woman, the two looked nothing alike.

"The one sign that is simplest to recognize of a Vanir is the silver shade of eyes they share. No matter the shape they choose, their eyes remain the same," he read.

Carefully opening her left eye, he tilted his head in confusion at the startling shade of vivid blue.

"Definitely not silver," he muttered to himself. "A Vanir yet…not a Vanir? The book says nothing of blue eyes. Yet it specifically states the absorption of energy in times of emergency and changing of hair color."

His eyes scanned the lines of scratch-like writing across the page, searching for his answers. Soon he reached the end of the section on Vanir but had found nothing of interest.

"What are you, stranger?" he asked, tossing the book over his shoulder as he sat down beside the bed.

He studied her closely before standing and walking out.

As he walked through the doorway, he called back, "Inform me when you wake, stranger."


	16. Chapter 15: Unfortunate Luck

**_Big thanks to water goddess 19 who added this story to her alerts and made my day. Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, have I thanked you yet for adding this to your favorites? I honestly can't express my gratitude towards you two. I hope all of you readers out there enjoy._**

* * *

_"Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, and most underrated agent of change. Kindness that catches us by surprise brings out the best in our natures."_

_ -Bob Kerrey_

* * *

_Freyja stared at the orchard of golden apples in disbelief, wondering how Loki had talked her into accompanying him. Silver tongue or not, few people could persuade her to do what she didn't want to do. Yet Loki, who was thirteen at the time, had managed to get her to join him with a simple plea. If Idunn found them, they would both be in immeasurable trouble._

_ "Just how in the name of the Yggdrasil do you plan to go through with this?" she asked skeptically._

_ "Simple," he answered with a grin that she knew meant trouble. "You will counteract the protection spells around the orchard. I will then sneak in, harvest the apples, and hide them away. No one will be the wiser."_

_ "And what, may I ask, are you using to carry the apples?"_

_ "This," he answered smugly, summoning a large golden helmet through magic._

_ Her eyes widened, "That's the All-Father's helmet!"_

_ "Exactly. It's just large enough to carry all of them."_

_ "Why are we doing this again?"_

_ "You know my people aren't like yours. We are not naturally immortal. I want to see Father's expression when the apples 'disappear'."_

_ "Now do tell how you plan to return them without Odin's wrath."_

_ "That is another reason I required your aid. I will need you to magic them to the table tonight, after the feast, so they will be visible by morning."_

_ "I'm unsure if this is wise…"_

_ "Trust me, it will be fun. Now, are you willing to help me or not?"_

_ She sighed in resignation, "Alright, but I need you to step back."_

_ "Will you explain to me exactly what you're doing?"_

_ "The enchantments placed around the orchard are woven in a fashion similar to woven netting. In order to keep Idunn from being notified, I must locate a space between the enchantments and widen it so that you may step through. Then I must keep it open so long as you are within the wards."_

_ "Will I learn to do the same?"_

_ "Yes, in a few years. Now I need you to stay silent while I work out what search."_

_ Loki nodded, watching her with curious eyes as the silver coils of her aura snaked from her palms and across the invisible dome. As the smoke wound its way around the separate threads, a large net of glistening wires suspended over the apple trees became visible. She scanned the meshwork for space large enough to manipulate. When she found none, she frowned in exasperation._

_ "Well?" he asked, tone anxious. "Are you not going to create a hole?"_

_ "The only space I can do that is up there," she explained, pointing to the top of the dome._

_ "But there is no way for me to enter from there!"_

_ "Of course there is. Have you already forgotten how we arrived here?"_

_ He paled slightly, "More flying?"_

_ "Hold on to that helmet," she warned, transforming into a falcon twice Loki's size._

_ She heard him yelp slightly as her talons curled carefully around him. He had not been comfortable with the flight to Idunn's orchard, but he had grudgingly gone along with it as it was the quickest way. It was either the height or the speed at which she flew that caused him to lose his nerve. He seemed to be growing slightly more accustomed to it, however._

_ Hovering directly over the center of the dome, Freyja worked away at the ragged hole. As it widened enough to fit both of them, she felt Loki shift slightly._

_ "You aren't going to drop me, are you?"_

_ She gave a broken screech which was the closest she could get to a laugh as a falcon. Folding her wings, she shot through the opening at the speed of a lightning bolt. Releasing Loki from one talon, causing him to grasp at the remaining one in a desperate fashion, she landed awkwardly on a tree. Dropping him as close to ground as possible, she reverted to her Asgardian guise and leapt to the floor._

_ He looked up at the opening they had flown through with a look of awe on his face, "You simply must take Thor flying with you."_

_ "So that all the Nine Realms may hear his screams? I think not," she answered. "Besides, he might pull out a few feathers in fear. You do not know pain until someone plucks a few of your feathers."_

_ He laughed, "It would be entertaining."_

_ She rolled her eyes, "Are you going to harvest these apples or not?"_

_ "Help me, will you?"_

_ They made short work of the apple trees, harvesting them with magic before piling them into Odin's golden helmet. Freyja didn't ask him how he managed to steal his father's helmet and, quite frankly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. When they had finished, she transformed back into a falcon and allowed Loki to clamber onto her back before launching into the air._

_ Once they had cleared the dome, she allowed the incantations to fall back into place and her aura to dissipate. Loki held onto her feathers with one hand while holding onto the helmet with the other._

_ "You know," he called over the wind, "once you overcome the initial fear, this is actually quite enjoyable."_

_ Freyja closed her eyes against the wind and when she opened them once more, the memory had changed._

_ It was past nightfall from what she could tell. She was slightly younger in the new memory, but not enough to change much. She was inside her room, panting from the memory of one of her father's early lessons. Algrim was holding her shoulders as he shook her gently, Loki sat on the edge of the bed with a worried expression._

_ "It's alright, Freyja. It was just a memory," Algrim said softly. "It cannot harm you now."_

_ "Why did you come here?" she asked, fighting back the tears of the memory._

_ "You were screaming in your sleep again," Loki explained. "I sought out Algrim for his assistance."_

_ She nodded, attempting to calm herself in vain._

_ "What troubles you now, princess?"_

_ She shook her head desperately, biting her lip to keep from answering. Loki and Algrim didn't deserve such a burden._

_ "I am willing to help you if you confide in me," he implored._

_ "Please do not ask it of me, Algrim," she whispered._

_ He sighed in resignation, "I cannot force you to speak the words that wound you."_

_ "Return to your chambers," she begged. "You need not worry yourself over me."_

_ "Know that if you ever wish to tell me what ails you, I will always listen," he whispered, pulling her into his comforting grasp. "Though we share no blood, you are always a daughter to me. Remember that."_

_ She nodded as he let go, "I will never forget."_

_ He spared them a final glance before leaving. Loki crawled closer to her, eyes filled with anxious curiosity._

_ "Will you tell me what memory causes you such pain?"_

_ "You would cause me more pain over the past?"_

_ Shame filled his green eyes, "Forgive me. I should not have asked it of you."_

_ "It is alright. Will you stay with me a little longer?"_

_ "Of course," he said, lying down beside her. "I will stay as long as you please."_

_ Laying back once more, she turned to look at him, "Have I ever told you of my father's short marriage to Skadi, the Jotun?"_

_ "Your father married a Jotun?"_

_ "Not by choice."_

_ "Will you tell me?"_

_ She nodded, beginning the story with the death of Skadi's brother and her compensation. They took turns telling their stories until they fell asleep, hands clasped together._

Freyja awoke feeling sore and stiff in an unfamiliar bed. For a split second, she thought Thanos had caught her once more. She realized, as she sat up, that the room was certainly not one in Thanos's hall. Pulling off the colorful blankets, she noticed someone had cut through the remains of her chemise to reveal her stomach. A white bandage wrapped around the wound caused by the arrow. The sparse room was fairly spacious for the little area within its walls, furnished with a few wooden fixtures. A modest lilac gown was laid across the nightstand beside her. Feeling the foreign fabric between her fingers, she pulled it on.

Still cautious towards how she had reached her whereabouts, she walked slowly through the archway and into a large hall. At the head of the table sat a tall young man with pale gray skin and white hair that fell just past his shoulders. The table was set with strange foods that she didn't recognize, but her mouth watered at the smell alone.

He looked up as she approached, strange white-gray eyes shining. He said a few words in a chattering language she could not recognize, causing her to peer at him in confusion. He frowned slightly, trying a new, more melodic language. She raised her eyebrows as he tried a guttural language reminiscent of the Jotun language. After a few different tries, he finally spoke in the tongue of Asgard.

"Is this more to your taste?"

"Not so much taste as it is understanding," she replied.

He smiled once more, "Good. You do understand Norse."

"Is that what you call it?"

"It is the name of this language. They speak it in an area of the planet of humans. I believe their deities speak it, as well. But I've never seen the land of the Æsir. Do sit down, I won't bite."

She pulled out the chair to his left and made to sit but jumped as he cried out in horror.

"You cannot sit there! That is Synder's chair!"

"I'm terribly sorry," she replied, pushing the chair back in. "I was not aware your companion would have any qualms over a chair."

"Oh, probably not. The dead have no need for chairs, after all. However, it was his chair since Father gave it to him."

"I'm afraid you have me lost," she said, unsure what to make of her captor.

"Forgive me. I should explain. Meanwhile, you may have my old seat," he said, pulling out the chair to his right.

She sat down and he returned to the head of the table, "This hall once housed my father, my mother, my six brothers, their wives, and their children. I was the youngest of the group. Now it is just me."

"They left?"

"In a way," he said, tone oddly cheerful. "There were many of us, once. But when the strange, purple being came, we became few."

"Thanos?"

A knife suddenly lodged itself in the table near her hand, causing her to stare in shock. The man laughed shakily, face apologetic.

"Excuse me my slip. I do not take kindly to that name."

"I share your sentiments," she muttered, staring at the food she hadn't yet dared to touch.

"Do help yourself," he said, gesturing to the plates. "I'm afraid there is no meat as animals no longer live here, but there are still some enjoyable dishes."

She nodded, taking the closest plate that slightly resembled field greens.

"Tell me, stranger. What are you?"

She nearly choked on a leaf at the abrupt question, "Why do you ask?"

"You seem to be a Vanir, at first glance, yet you are not. What land do you hail from?"

"Vanaheim, but I have the blood of Alfheim, as well."

"I've never journeyed to Alfheim," he mused. "I hear tell it is pleasant, but it is far too close to Asgard for my taste."

"Asgard is not to your taste?"

"I've never journeyed there to find out."

"Why not?"

"Simple: the Mountain Trills."

"The what?"

"Mountain Trills," he repeated in disgust. "Nasty little vermin…"

She raised an eyebrow, certain that there was no such thing in Asgard, but said nothing.

"Are you aware you have neglected to introduce yourself? I'm aware much has happened, but manners should not be forgotten."

"Of course, forgive me," she said uncertainly. "I am Princess Freyja, daughter of Njord."

He nodded, "You may call me Sverre, Njorddottir."

"I am truly thankful for your aid, Sverre, but where exactly are we?"

"This land was once called Curvatuo, but it is no more. However, I wish to know more about you. It has been so very long since I've had the delight of company, especially company that does not wish to murder me."

He took a sip from the glass she guessed held wine, looking at her expectantly. She blinked in confusion, wondering what he was waiting for.

"Will you not tell me how you came here?"

"I was abducted by a man named Merek-"

She stopped as Sverre's nails dragged across the table, leaving long scores in the otherwise smooth surface.

"Filthy blood-traitor," he spat. "May he be eaten by Mountain Trills."

"You know of him?"

"Know of him? He was my friend, once. The blood of my people runs through his veins, although he is not full-blooded. And yet he aided the giant-beast in slaughtering us. What I wouldn't do to sever his head from his shoulders…"

"As I was saying, he brought me here, though I know not how. The Titan kept me prisoner for I hold information he wants. The best course of action for me now is to find a way to return to the Nine Realms."

"It is good that I found you, then."

"Forgive me, for I don't grasp your meaning."

"Have you not wondered how Merek brought you here?"

"I have yet to find a logical explanation. Long-distance travel is only possible if one has a relatively large source of energy to call upon."

"Not for us," he said with a smile. "My people are born with the natural ability to travel through dimensions, universes, and worlds with the blink of an eye."

"Just as my people are born to wield magic…"

"Exactly," he pointed out.

"You could take me to Asgard?"

"Afraid not," he answered cheerfully, taking a bite of something reminiscent of an apple.

"Why ever not?"

"There is nothing in this world that could persuade me to travel to the native home of Mountain Trills."

"What in the Nidhogg's name is a Mountain Trill?" she finally asked, exasperated.

"What is a Mount – Now you're just being silly! The closest I can take you is Jotunheim."

She slumped back against her chair, "Jotunheim…I suppose it could be worse. Can you not take me to Midgard?"

"In the middle of winter? By the winds, you're mad!"

Freyja held her tongue, knowing she would insult Sverre if she pointed out she was not the only mad one at the table. What difference did a Midgardian winter make in comparison to the eternal blizzards of the land of the Frost Giants?

"I will take you to Jotunheim. Will you be able to gain necessary aid from there?"

"Most likely…"

He stood up abruptly, taking hold of her arm. She yelped in surprise as the world seemed to fall away from them, color and light spinning around them as if they were in the eye of a tornado. When their surroundings solidified, Freyja felt slightly dizzy. Freezing wind whipped across her face in the white world of Jotunheim.

"I should leave now," Sverre said, letting go of her arm. "The Jotuns don't appreciate my visits here. Farewell and good luck, Freyja."

She watched in surprise, more confused than ever as he turned to walk away.

"Wait!" she called, shivering slightly in the cold.

He stopped and turned to face her, "Yes?"

"May I at least have the privilege of knowing your name?"

He gave a crooked smile, "Erland. My true name is Erland."

And with that, he vanished, completely disappearing from view. Turning around to take a closer look at her surroundings, she realized she was close the royal city of Jotunheim. Whether Sverre thought she could find an ally in the palace or her location was simply a coincidence, Freyja knew she had to put as much distance between herself and the city. If the Jotuns found her, it was likely that she would never reach Asgard.

Cursing her lack of proper clothing, shoes of any sort and energy to power her magic, she turned her back to the city and began walking into the wilderness. She could not call to Heimdall, for fear a nearby Jotun could hear her, and her chances in the frozen wastelands were slim. If she was faced with an enemy, Frost Giant or animal, she would not succeed in escaping. Within a few minutes alone, her feet were going numb.

"Just my luck if I obtain frostbite now," she muttered to herself, trudging through the high snow.

She thought about her choices as she walked. On one hand, it was likely she would get captured by a Jotun. If that was the case, she would, no doubt, spend the rest of her days as a slave until she escaped. On the other hand, she could wind up back in Thanos's care. There was also the possibility of freezing to death, becoming some creature's lunch, and the almost nonexistent chance of contacting Heimdall without attracting attention.

Sighing at the bleak outlook, she continued forward. If she ever did make it back to Asgard, she swore to never underappreciate the constant summer of the Realm Eternal. Licking her still dry lips, she realized just how little she had eaten and drank while with Erland. She began to wonder just what every dish might have tasted like. During her mental distractions, she did not hear the faint sound of a bear-driven cart approaching.

She froze when she noticed the sound, turning slightly to glance behind her. Fear spiked through her as she saw the cart in the distance, sending her running as soon as she realized her fate. She knew she couldn't outrun the cart, nor the Jotuns riding on it, but she wasn't willing to give up. As it happened, she managed to trip over a rock hidden under the blanket of snow.

The cart slid to a stop as she pushed herself of the ground. One of the Jotuns, the eldest, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her off the ground. She dangled in his grasp, clawing at his hands to force him to let go.

"An Asgardian wench in the middle of the snow," he muttered in the guttural language of his people. "Seems to be our lucky day, boys."

A smaller Jotun, no doubt an adolescent, came running up to get a better look.

"That is what an Asgardian looks like?" he asked, tilting his head in curiosity. "Mama said they were larger, and fearsome…"

Freyja barely recognized the disappointed tone of the child's voice, too busy continuing her attempt to pry herself from the Giant's grasp.

Another, slightly older Jotun boy walked over, "She's awfully small…are you certain that is an Æsir?"

"She's a woman, Thurn, and most likely not a warrior, either," he returned his attention to Freyja. "What brings you here, Asgardian?"

"I simply wish to return to Asgard," she said in the same tongue, ignoring the pain in her shoulder. "I have no business here."

"Truer words have never been spoken," he grunted, slightly surprised that she spoke the native language of Jotunheim.

"What shall we do with her, Father?" the elder child asked.

"All trespassers go to King Laufey. Perhaps he will reward us for our troubles."

She struggled as the Jotun forced her arms closer, creating shackles of ice around her wrists. Tossing her over his shoulder, he returned to the cart with his sons.

"We aren't returning home, are we?" the youngest whined. "This was supposed to be our first hunt!"

"Patience, Ullar. We will go hunting. Let us see what benefits the woman brings us, first."

Freyja was then tossed rather unceremoniously into the wooden cart, wincing as she hit a bruise. The eldest Jotun took hold of the reins and spurred the bears into action.

"If you would only allow me freedom, I would leave your land with Heimdall's aid!" she called.

"You're of more use to me if I hand you over to Laufey," he barked in reply.

The youngest prodded her side with a booted foot, "I think she's broken, Father."

The second child looked down at her with wide eyes, "Father, Ullar is right! She's bleeding."

Freyja looked down at her side at the same time the Jotun did, noticing that her actions had reopened the arrow wound. Scarlet ran down the pale purple material, staining the fabric. The Jotun shrugged noncommittally.

"We will arrive soon, anyhow."

Ullar kneeled down before Freyja, staring at her in wonder, "Are you truly of Asgard?"

Before she could think of a reply, the father snapped, "Do not speak to the prisoner!"

"Yes, Father," the boy mumbled, looking let down that he couldn't speak with her.

"Laufey will give you nothing in return if you take me to him," she protested, growing increasingly desperate as the city came into view.

"Silence!"

Freyja remained quiet for the remainder of the journey, knowing her words would get her nowhere. Her only bit of luck in the situation was the fact that none of them had recognized her, as she had never been to Jotunheim. When they reached the ruins of the outer chamber of the palace, the Jotun pushed her before Laufey who sat on a granite throne.

"My King," the Jotun greeted, all three bowing as Freyja remained the same.

"What is the meaning of this, Fallor?" Laufey drawled.

In the back of her mind, Freyja recalled that Laufey was Loki's birth father. As Fallor explained how they had found her, she mentally compared the two. If she looked closely, they shared similar facial structures. Laufey also seemed to be leaner than the rest, similar to Loki's build. She was certain that if Loki took on the appearance of a Jotun, he would bear a striking resemblance to Laufey.

"I thank you for this most pleasing gift. You may leave," Laufey said with flick of his wrist.

"That is all?" Fallor asked in surprise.

"That is all," Laufey replied dismissively.

With a clenched jaw, the Jotun stood up and bowed, "As you wish, my King."

Freyja watched, hiding her amusement, as the Jotun skulked out of the room. Laufey watched as well, a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. He returned his attention to Freyja as the door closed behind them.

"Well, Asgardian, welcome to Jotunheim," he said, gesturing to their surroundings as he stood up. "It may not be as impressive as the Realm Eternal, but this was once a glorious kingdom."

"I am aware," she replied, voice carefully controlled. "It was a magnificent realm until the All-Father stole your source of power."

A large hand cracked across her face, causing her to bite her tongue from the force. Looking up with an incredulous expression, she saw Laufey's snarl.

"You will speak when spoken to," he growled. "You will also bow before me."

She looked him squarely in the eye, quite tired of her mistreatment over the past month, "No."

She inhaled sharply as he brought her down to her knees by dragging her shackles down quickly with the tip of his boot. Arms before her and body crouched, she raised her head defiantly.

"Such a fair, young maid," he muttered, tilting her face with his foot. "Now what to do with you…?"

He continued to stare down at her, finding enjoyment in toying with her. She knew she was relatively safe so long as no one recognized her. If they found out her identity, she would be locked away under the highest security and used for whatever purposes that would please Laufey.

"You would make a most lovely handmaid," he mused. "But to me or one of my sons…? I have little interest in a woman who would, no doubt, be easily broken. Helblindi would kill you before the sun rises once more. Perhaps I-"

"Father," a voice called as a broadly built Jotun with short-cropped black hair walked in. "Helblindi is being most-"

He stopped as he saw them, eyes flicking to Laufey in confusion, "Father, who is this?"

Freyja took a close look at the young Jotun who looked roughly in his early twenties in age. But, then again, it was always difficult for her to discern the ages of the Giants.

"An Asgardian who decided to trespass on our land," Laufey said with a smile. "Is she not the most radiant creature?"

The Jotun Prince looked at her once more, ruby eyes examining her carefully. She stiffened as a flicker of a familiar emotion reached his eyes through the calm mask. For the first time since she'd arrived, Freyja hung her head in despair at her terrible luck. She knew the emotion too well and knew what it meant for her.

It was recognition.


	17. Chapter 16: False Calm

_"Every truth has two sides; it is well to look at both, before we commit ourselves to either."_

_ -Aesop_

* * *

Though Freyja was staring at the cold floor of the room, she could still feel the Jotun prince's stare.

"I suppose…" she heard him say. "Are we sending her back to Asgard?"

"Of course not," Laufey scoffed. "She would be quite entertaining, if only for the night."

"You plan to take a wounded woman?"

Laufey inspected Freyja's bleeding side for the first time, "She will be of no use to us in this state. I suppose I must put her out of her misery. Such a waste…"

Freyja didn't move as she heard a blade of ice forming on the Giant King's hand. If she was to die, she refused to have her last sight be the Jotun King. She tensed, awaiting the blade's descent. The sound of flesh colliding with flesh caused her to glance up in surprise. The Jotun prince was holding his father's arm, keeping the deadly ice dagger suspended above her head.

"Father, wait. Have you not thought if I wished to have her?"

She suppressed a snarl of disgust, chastising herself for believing the Jotun would want more than a plaything for the night.

"You wish to keep a woman who will die during the night?"

"Will you allow me my amusements?"

"As you wish, my son," Laufey replied, ice melting in his grasp. "You are lucky, Asgardian. It seems you will live longer, if only by an hour or so. Byleist has always had a gentler touch."

Freyja looked up at the laughing king in disdain. Before she had time to reply, Byleist pulled her up and pushed her down the hall.

"Move," he snapped, shoving her roughly.

"Gentler touch," she muttered in the language of Asgard. "What rubbish."

"Silence!" he yelled, giving her another shove.

"Push me once more and I shall break against the ground," she snapped. "Then what good will I be to you?"

"I said enough!"

She kept silent afterwards, wanting nothing more than to reach the Prince's chambers so that she may find her way of escape, be it death or life. He opened on of the rough stone doors, pushing her inside. As he locked the door, she leapt across the room to put as much distance between her and the Prince.

"I am terribly sorry for that, but he would have never allowed you to live if he didn't believe me," Byleist said softly, cold mask gone. "Are you alright?"

He took a few steps towards her, but she raced to the other corner.

"Stay away from me," she hissed. "I warn you now, I will not submit willingly."

"You won't need to. Allow me to-"

"No!" she snarled, leaping over a desk as he continued closer.

"I do not wish to-"

"Spare me your lies, Jotun."

They continued with their little game, Byleist attempting to reach her while she ducked and spun away.

"Hold still!" he yelled in exasperation.

She rolled across the fur-covered bed, leaving several paces between them. A dagger of ice formed in his hand and her movements became more frantic as she tried to stay away. As she ran across the room once more, he threw the dagger at her. She yelped in surprise, stopping abruptly as it flew towards her.

The sound of ice shattering brought her to her senses and she looked at her hands to see that the dagger had broken through the manacles. She looked up in surprise at the prince, who was doubled over panting.

"Would you, please, allow… allow me to explain," he said between gasps.

"I wish you would," she said, still marveling at the fact that he had willingly broken her bonds.

He motioned her closer, "Will you let me remove the remains of the ice? They will leave rather severe burns if they remain in contact with your skin."

She walked closer cautiously, still not completely trusting the Jotun prince.

"My name is Byleist, crowned prince of Jotunheim" he said as he took her hands gently. "You're Freyja, correct? I can only assume as I've only heard the rumors."

"Yes," she replied, rubbing her wrist gingerly as he melted the ice.

"It is an honor to meet you. I am sorry you were forced to go through such an appalling situation."

"Why are you aiding me?"

"I am aiding you because," he sighed, "Father would have either given you to Helblindi or taken you for himself. Either way, you would have died at their hands. No woman should be treated with such disrespect."

"So you lie to your father to keep a woman you don't even know alive?"

He chuckled, sitting down on the bed, "It may sound strange to you, but that is the whole of it."

"Why?"

"Why help you? Because you look as if you may need it. Besides, I do not believe in needlessly spilling blood."

"And what are your plans now that you have me?"

He paused, "How is it that the Asgardians call upon the Gatekeeper to open the Bifrost?"

"Heimdall hears and sees all. If I were to call for him, he would hear."

"Can you not do that now?"

"Hardly. I must find a reclusive area before I call for him."

He nodded, "There is a plain not far from here, in the middle of the mountains. The journey takes the better part of the morning, but if we leave at dawn, we could make it by noon."

"And you would allow me to leave? After trespassing on your land?"

"Of course," he answered. "By the way, why are you here?"

"I was dropped off here. My intentions were to find a clearing so that I may leave. Vanaheim may experience winter, but this is far too cold for my liking."

He chuckled, "I suppose it would be to you. I should probably call for a healer."

He gestured at the bloodstain across her side, and she glanced down at it before shaking her head, "Don't bother. They will find it strange if you call them just for me. Besides, I will be fine so long as I return to Asgard by tomorrow eve."

Byleist stood up with a nod, glancing out the window at the setting sun. She turned to watch the pale orb, shrouded in the Jotunheim fog, sink towards the horizon. It occurred to her that she wasn't sure how long she had been gone or what had occurred during her absence. She guessed her captivity had been relatively short, as there were no signs that it had been longer than a few months at most.

"Why don't you take the bed?"

"Where will you rest?" she asked.

"I've slept on worse than the floor in the past," he said with a smile. "Besides, you look as if you haven't slept properly in a while."

"It has been quite some time since I slept at all," she replied, walking towards the bed.

He gave her a questioning look, but shrugged it off afterwards. She gave him the pillow and several of the furs atop the bed as she felt slightly guilty for causing him to sleep on the floor. Slipping under the furs that covered the bed, Freyja attempted to make herself comfortable without being on edge from Byleist's proximity. Her time with Thanos had put her on edge, and she couldn't find it in herself to trust the prince completely. Eventually, she drifted off into an uneasy sleep, haunted by memories of her time with Thanos.

Cloaked in several layers of furs and wearing boots that she could have worn as a hat, Freyja stumbled through the snow after Byleist. The prince's long strides through the deep snow caused her to almost jog after him to keep up. Although a cart would have been faster, it would have attracted far too much attention. The noise alone would have alerted the castle of their whereabouts in the early hours of the morning.

Even under the multiple furs, she could still feel the bitter winds that whipped against them. She cursed her misfortune as she shivered against the icy embrace of Jotunheim. Cold, fatigued and miserable, she called out to Byleist.

"It's been nearly six hours," she yelled in exasperation. "I believe your exact words on the plain were that it was not far from the palace. Forgive me if I have missed something, but how exactly is over six hours not far?"

Her questions came out sharper than she had intended, but her desperation to return to Asgard and recuperate was beginning to drive her to distraction. She was pining for the comforts of Asgard, hungering for the safe company of her friends, but most of all, she was longing to leave the frigid wastelands of the realm of Giants.

"Perhaps the distances we use are different from yours," he answered, ignoring her tone. "Then again, I suppose what may seem fairly short to me would be quite far for you…"

"And you are certain there will be no other Jotuns around?"

"None," he replied. "Few come into these mountains, for fear of the summit beasts."

"The what?"

"Summit beasts: large, matted fur, long claws, serrated teeth. Do you not have those in Asgard or Vanaheim?"

"I can honestly say I have never heard of such a creature," she said as she added them to the mental list of species to look into, right next to Mountain Trills.

He nodded, "They are quite vicious."

"Then why did you lead us here?"

He glanced back at her, "Your people's skill in magic is legendary. Though I could not hold my own against one of the beasts, it should be no difficult task for your magic."

Freyja didn't mention that she couldn't have turned a snowflake into water vapor in her current state, much less single-handedly defeat a creature the Jotuns found dangerous. Instead, she extended her consciousness out around them to see if there was indeed some creature lurking in the snow. She could not sense anything dangerous, chalking it up to a moment of good luck.

"We should be about seventy paces from our destination, now."

Freyja shook her head at the vague distance. One thing she found she missed about Vanaheim was the accuracy of measurements they used. For some reason she couldn't fathom, the other realms measure distance by a stone's throw, paces, and other unhelpful comparisons. When she had pointed out to Loki once, he had begun a series of experiments to test her words. This had involved stealing a precious belonging from Sif, Thor, and the Warriors Three while giving them obscure instructions on how to find them again. Needless to say, it was Freyja and Loki who had to track down the lost treasures in the end.

"Seventy paces for you or I?" she asked.

Byleist paused before chuckling, "For myself, I suppose. How many would that mean for you?"

"Heimdall only knows," she muttered to herself.

"Have you always whispered conversations to yourself?" he asked.

"Not usually," she answered, frowning at the prince's point. "It must be the weariness catching up with me."

"Why is it I feel as if your recent endeavors are both unpleasant and secretive?"

"Some things are better left unsaid."

He nodded, never slowing his pace. With one final check to see if there were any other beings near, Freyja stopped.

"Byleist," she called. "This will be sufficient."

He turned around to face her, "I was under the impression-"

"If I continue in this way, I will kill myself from overexertion. I'm sure Heimdall can open the Bifrost to this area."

He looked up at the sky, "How exactly does one go about ca-"

"HEIMDALL!" she called into the emptiness.

"Are you mad? You will bring every creature down upon us!"

"Heimdall! Open the Bifrost, please!"

Byleist stared at her as if she had gone mad, "What are you doing?"

She didn't have time to answer, as the prismatic rays of light shot through the fog and descended upon them. The familiar pull of the Bifrost overwhelmed Freyja, causing her the usual nausea. Her lack of energy only worsened the sickness induced by the rainbow bridge.

As the Observatory became their surroundings, Freyja stumbled in dizziness. Byleist caught her easily, looking around with obvious curiosity.

"Welcome back, Princess," Heimdall said, molten steel eyes gazing out in the distance. "Welcome, Prince Byleist. Is there any particular reason you brought a Jotun, Freyja?"

"Peace, Heimdall," she said once her sickness had passed. "I would not be here if it were not for Byleist. He will bring no harm to Asgard."

Freyja took a step forward before nearly tumbling to the ground once more. A groan escaped her lips as another wave of dizziness hit her. Byleist held her awkwardly, trying to support her although he was far too tall to do so properly.

"Are you alright?"

"Not in the least," she answered. "I will be alright, so long as I reach the palace."

He helped her walk out of the Observatory before stopping to take in the roaring sea beneath the Bifrost, its crystalline surface glittering with color all the way to the edge of the city.

"This is Asgard?" he asked in surprise.

"The Realm Eternal," she nodded. "My home of sorts."

She blinked away another sensation of falling as her head spun. She had known this moment had been approaching her. There was only so long her body could run on minimum energy. If she did not reach the palace soon enough, she would die. Despite the fact that she would never see the realms again, the idea of dying on the Bifrost didn't seem so terrible in her eyes. As she gazed down the Rainbow Bridge, she recognized a familiar black stallion and golden war horse approached.

"We are in luck," she murmured.

"Who are they?" Byleist asked.

"Loki," she answered with a smile. "And his elder brother, Thor."

"The Odinsons?"

Loki leapt off his horse when they arrived, running to her side. Thor raised Mjolnir at the sight of Byleist. She could see a flash of silver in Loki's hand as he drew a knife.

"No!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands out to keep them from attacking.

Loki pulled Freyja from Byleist's grasp, searching her face worriedly, "What happened?"

"I will explain later. In the meantime, you will not harm Prince Byleist. He was the one to help me escape Jotunheim."

Loki looked up at Byleist in surprise, "You have my utmost gratitude, Laufeyson. Speak your wish and you will receive it."

Byleist shrugged, "There is nothing I want in recompense, save to return home."

"Heimdall will open the Bifrost for you," Freyja said, struggling to stand up straight in Loki's protective embrace. "I will never forget this, Byleist. I am forevermore in your debt."

"Do not dwell over it," he answered. "I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again, Princess."

"And I, as well," she replied as he walked back to the Observatory.

"Where have you been?" Thor demanded. "We have searched every corner of the Realms for you!"

"Have you no decent sense, Thor?" Loki snapped. "Do you not see what state she is in and yet you demand answers from her?"

"Enough! I will explain everything when I can. For now we must return to the palace."

Loki helped her limp back to the horses, only looking up when a third person joined them.

"Freyja!"

She glanced up at the familiar voice, seeing Freyr jump off his horse and running towards them. As he reached them, taking her face in his hands, she could feel the presence of his consciousness in her own mind. She knew he meant no harm as he was only checking just what state she was in, but it worried her that her mental barrier had broken down during her time away from Asgard. He hissed in shock, drawing back away from her psyche.

"What is it?" Loki asked, tone desperate.

"She has so little energy," he whispered, pulling a vial from his belt. "I am surprised she has survived this long."

Freyja took the crystal vial instantly, downing the bitter contents in one drink.

"Will she be alright?" Thor asked.

"You are aware that I am still here?" she asked as Loki walked her the rest of the way to his horse. "I will be fine so long as we do not tarry needlessly."

As they rode down the Bifrost, Freyja leaned her head on Loki's back. Arms wrapped around his abdomen, she smiled at the familiar scent of mint, cinnamon and leather on his skin. With the rhythm of the horse's strides and the serenity after such a long period of pain, she allowed her eyes to close.

"Do not close your eyes, Freyja," Loki said sharply, causing her thoughts to shatter. "I will not have dying now."

She laughed softly, "I am not going to die here, Loki. Not when I've only just returned."

"Are you aware Freyr and I were at wit's end with trying to locate you?" he asked.

"I never gave it much thought, though I knew that would be the case."

"He has been using the Muse to travel to Heimdall knows where in search of you while I was limited to attempting several tracking spells, none of which worked."

"You kept yourself within the walls of the palace? I am shocked that Asgard has not fallen into chaos yet."

"This is no time for humor," he said, though she could hear the smile in his voice.

They stopped when they reached the palace, giving the reigns of the horses to the servants waiting by the gilded doors. Freyja was back to stumbling across the smooth floor, supported by Loki on her left and Freyr on her right.

"We need to take her to the Healers," Freyr said, turning slightly to face the correct direction.

Loki nodded, helping the Vanir walk Freyja to the Infirmary. Freyja, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to discard the furs and too large boots before retiring to her room for a long, warm bath. However, she submitted to their whims, allowing them to drag her into the waiting arms of the Healers.

Freyja leaned her head back against the copper edge of the bath, enjoying the warmth of the clean water. Although the Healers had given her some of their energy and healed what little she had not been able to manage herself, there had been nothing they could do about her blind left eye. Some things, she knew, would take time to heal.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?"

She jumped, turning her head fully to the left to see Loki leaning against the door frame. His narrowed his eyes slightly at her response, a thoughtful frown across his lips.

"Yes, it has been quite some time since I've had a liberty such as this."

"Love, what is wrong with your left eye?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Why would you ask such a question?"

"Do not deflect my questions," he said softly, walking forward.

"It is nothing that cannot be healed in time," she replied.

He kneeled down beside the tub, tilting her face away from his to inspect it. She couldn't see what exactly he was doing, thanks to the angle. His angry hiss was the only thing to alert her of his epiphany.

"What happened?"

"You will not like the answer."

"To Hel whether I like the answer or not! What happened to your eye?"

She sighed, turning her head to face him, "Burning coals. I have lost my temporarily lost my sight, but it will return eventually."

"Merek did this to you?" he asked, voice sharp as steel.

"No."

"Then who?"

"Merek was no more than a puppet, a toy manipulated into his master's whims. I can tell you no more than that."

He sighed irritably, anger and vengefulness plain in his green eyes. She could tell he was dwelling over the fact that he was helpless in the situation, she could see how much it burned him. Despite chaos being in his repertoire, he needed the stability given by control. Concentrated chaos, he would call it. Helplessness and inability to manipulate a situation caused him great exasperation.

"They hurt you," he whispered, running the back of his hand across the side of her face. "They hurt you and I could do nothing save sit idly and fret over your well-being. What did they want from you?"

"Knowledge."

"Why you?"

She held up her left hand, showing him the thick gold with silver glyphs embedded into the surface. He turned it slightly on her finger so he could read the inscription before looking up at her in confusion.

"'May you keep the strength and wisdom you need to guard our secrets'," he repeated. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"There is one person chosen from my people to guard our secrets and knowledge from those who would abuse them. That responsibility has fallen to me."

"And that is why Merek abducted you?"

"Partially."

"Then what was his other reason?"

"It is late, Loki," she said, not wanting his needless anger at the answer. "And I am tired. Will you not allow me to rest?"

He sighed, "Alright. But if you need or want anything, do not hesitate to summon me."

"I will be fine," she answered as he stood up.

"Goodnight, love."

She watched him walk out of the washroom before standing up and grabbing a towel. Wrapping it around her, she walked out to her bedchamber. Everything was still exactly as she had left it, with the exception of the Muse, now tucked away in one of her drawers at the vanity table. Opening the wardrobe across from her bed, she picked out a pale blue chemise and pulled it on.

With her lack of sight through her left eye, she had not managed to spot the darker spot within the shadows in the corner of the room. From the darkness, two eyes watched her closely. Two eyes the color of a nebula tracked her every move, waiting for their opportunity.


	18. Chapter 17: Futures Past

**_And now for the crescendo! Although this will be nothing compared to the finale of the series... ;) Hope you guys enjoy this one, as it's the first of the last chapters. Thanks to all for sticking with me this far. Hopefully, you'll stick around to see how all of this plays out._**

**_Song of the Chapter: Blow Me Away (feat. Valora) ~ Breaking Benjamin_**

* * *

_"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out 'til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along."_

_ -Terry Pratchett_

* * *

"You're more difficult to control than I had anticipated."

Freyja spun on her heels in shock at the familiar voice, but a sturdy hand clamped over her mouth just as she went to scream. Merek smiled as he held her wrists in his free hand, eyes slightly wild. When she looked closely, she could make out several bruises and new scars that adorned his face.

"Admiring Thanos's handiwork?" he asked. "They were my reward for allowing you to escape."

Fear spiked through her as she thought of him dragging her back to Thanos. She had just returned and had barely begun recovering. If she was given to Thanos again, she would not live more than a few days at most.

"Do not fret, Freyja. I will not bring you back to Thanos," he said softly, as if he had heard her unspoken fear. "I found you were right. Thanos would have never allowed me to keep you once he had his answers. He would have killed you, and I would have been the last loose end. Even now, he moves to put his plans into action. He will destroy them all. So I am collecting my payment."

"_Occaeco_," he muttered, tossing her onto the bed.

It surprised her that he could accomplish the simplest of spells when he couldn't properly pronounce any of the incantations. Looking around for something to use as a weapon, Freyja noticed one of Loki's knife on the nightstand, the exact one he had used to cut through her corset one night when he couldn't untie it. Grabbing it quickly while Merek was busy placing enchantments on the room, she stood up with her arms behind her back.

"By your payment, you refer to what Thanos said he would give you?"

Merek's expression turned thoughtful for a second, "Come to think of it, he never specifically stated that he would give you to me. He told me to name my price and when I did so, he simply smiled."

"Then you are a fool," she said, keeping three feet between them. "A fool to follow his orders without promise of payment and a fool to believe you would not find a fight here."

He jumped back in surprise as the knife descended across his face, slicing a long laceration from the bridge of his nose to his left cheek. He snarled as she continued forward, forcing him to back into the wall. She had no intentions of severely wounding him, but she needed to keep him distracted while she mentally searched the castle for Loki. It was her lack of full concentration that allowed him to grab her wrist tightly, twisting it roughly as pain lanced up her forearm.

The knife fell from her fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud, only to be kicked away by Merek. Cracking the back of his hand across her face, Freyja stumbled back in surprise. He quickly pulled her closer, pressing her back against the chilled metal walls. With both her wrists pinned above her with one hand, he made quick work of binding them in a long strip of patterned leather. He pressed his lips to hers in a desperate fashion, still holding her hands above her head. She twisted her face away, only to have him bring it back with his free hand. Unable to think of what else to do, she brought her knee up towards his stomach. She missed, but her knee hit a much more delicate spot and he slid to his knees with a groan.

Leaping around him, she made for the door in hopes of locating a guard. A hand gripped her arm far too tightly and she was thrown back away from the door. Desperate for aid, she projected a single thought, though it was more akin to a scream, out to the castle around her.

"LOKI!" she cried out, both mentally and out loud.

Far away in some corridor of the castle, she could feel Loki's fear as he raced back to her chambers. He had heard her.

"SILENCE!" Merek snarled, rage plain in his eyes. "You will speak of no one else. No one's name shall leave your lips unless it is mine! You are _mine_ now and no one else's!"

"I will never be yours," she hissed as she struggled to her feet.

He shoved her roughly onto the bed, hovering over her. As he straddled her hips, ripping part of her chemise at the top, she locked one leg around his and flipped him over. The two tumbled of the mattress, rolling across the floor as they fought for the upper hand. She attempted to strike him with her bound wrists, but he pinned them to the floor with one hand and worked away at his belt with the other. She struggled against him, causing him to put aside undressing as he closed his hand around her neck.

Her head spun as her airway closed against the pressure, causing Freyja to pause in her resistance. As he continued to tighten his grip, her mind seemed to act upon its own. She forced her psyche into his, randomly clawing away at it in attempt to force him to stop. She could feel the pain he felt, but she ignored it as she continued to rend it apart as a toddler would a fragile toy. She could vaguely hear him screaming as the pressure on her throat disappeared. With slightly fuzzy sight, she watched in horror as he howled in agony, his eyes lacking anything but frantic pain. He gave a last, choked cry before falling onto her, body limp.

Freyja cried out in surprise, pushing away Merek's body with her legs and bound hands. As she stood up and stared at the corpse, her mind began to comprehend what had just happened. Something was slamming into the door of her chambers, but she paid it no heed. She had just murdered Merek.

When the thick wooden door came crashing in, the charge of magic filling the air, she couldn't force herself to glance up from Merek's empty eyes. While destroying his mind, she had seen just what Thanos had done to him. It was an Awakening gone wrong, driving him to insanity. She could have healed him, could have brought him back, but she had killed him.

"Freyja, are you-" Loki broke off as he saw her in her torn chemise, staring in horror at the lifeless body before her.

He ran to her side, taking her by the shoulders, "Did he hurt you?"

She looked up from Merek's kaleidoscope eyes to the familiar green of Loki's, unable to speak.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, enunciating each word carefully. "Did he hurt you in any way?"

She shook her head blankly, words dying before they reached her lips. Loki turned to the guards who watched the scene in surprise.

"Take that vile creature to the forbidden woods and leave it there to rot," Loki spat, usually smooth voice filled with venomous anger.

The guards scrambled to follow his orders, shaken by the dangerous tone. As they left with Merek's body, Freyja finally managed to choke out words.

"I murdered him," she whispered, voice cracking.

Loki pulled her close, whispering into her ear, "It was an act of self-defense. You did what you were forced to."

"No," she said, tears streaking down her face. "I murdered him. Without so much as a thought, I took his life."

"Shh…"

"I murdered him…"

"This is not your fault. I should have never left you alone after just returning from such an endeavor. I will not make such a mistake again. I swear it."

* * *

Within two days, Freyja had managed to convince herself that Merek's death was not entirely her fault. He had been the one to assault her, leaving her to fight however she could. But it didn't stop the guilt that gnawed at her day and night. None of her excuses could correct her choices. The results did not justify the means.

Loki had kept to his word, much to her chagrin, of not allowing her to remain alone. He continued to stay in her room, keeping projections of himself elsewhere. For the entirety of two weeks, he remained awake by her side. She attempted to persuade him to rest, but he would not hear it. When he began to jump at small noises and draw knives when a shadow moved to quickly, she placed a sleeping charm on him. He was out like a light for three days.

Although he had not been overly pleased with the fact that she had forced him to sleep, he forgave her easily as he knew it was necessary. With his exhaustion gone, his decent sense returned and he allowed her privacy. That was not to say, of course, that he didn't spend most of his nights in her chambers, anyway. And with Merek's passing, things slowly returned to normal.

Only one thing seemed to bother Freyja, no matter how busy her days were. Merek had mentioned Thanos executing his plans, destroying "them all". She couldn't help wonder what he had meant. What were Thanos's plans, and who was he going to murder? She attempted to guess at what Merek's meaning was, but she came up with no answers. She knew there was only one place she could find the answers she sought: the Norns.

Despite being able to see the future, Freyja knew she would be hard-pressed to find her answers through her own searches. While both her people and the Norns could see all of the possible futures, it was only the latter that knew which one would actually occur. But asking the Norns about the future was risky. Though renowned for their perfect predictions, they were also known for their exceedingly steep prices. Sometimes, the answers were not even worth the cost.

But, then again, if she could find out whom "them" was and alert them, Freyja thought any price might be worth it. And so she awoke early one morning, leaving another note for Loki, though it didn't specifically state where she was going, and donned her feathered-cloak. She had hidden the Muse a week before in a temple on Earth, placing enchantments around it to keep Thanos from tracking the energy signals. The families who kept the temple were faithful followers of hers and she knew that the entire family, right down to each of the future generations, would keep it safe. Unable to use the Muse for transportation, and hoping to avoid the sickness-inducing Bifrost, she was left with her cloak.

Her cloak was, in her opinion, the best form of long-distance travel after the Muse. It gave off no energy signals to trace, all the wearer need do was concentrate, and it could allow people to fly across the space between Realms within the blink of an eye. It was also one of the few gifts her father had ever given her, making it close to priceless to her.

She found little troubled her on her way out of the palace, until she reached the courtyard. A young boy with messy, raven hair and surprised green eyes ran into her, falling backward as he did. Jormungand stared up at Freyja in fright, quickly stuffing something reflective into his cloak. She remembered that when she had returned to Asgard, but after her time with the Healers, it had Jormungand who had hugged her tightly and cried out his worries for her. It seemed that Loki's children had indeed come to think of her as their mother, as both Hel and Fenrir had been relieved to see her, as well.

"Jormungand? What are you doing running about at this hour?"

"Oh, umm, just amusing myself," he answered.

She had learned very quickly that while Loki's boys were just as talented in deception as he was, they actually never lied to her. However, they never told the full truth, either.

"You should not be left to your own devices," she muttered. "So long as you keep yourself out of severe trouble, I have no qualms."

He grinned, looking everything like his father, "Worry not. It's just a bit of fun."

She raised her eyebrows but simply said, "Run along, then. I have some rather important matters to attend to."

He stood up, curiosity clear in his eyes, "What sort of business?"

"Business that is not for children."

"I am not a child!" he protested. "I'm nearly seven!"

"Continue with your game, or I shall tell Fandral that you stole his hand mirror."

Jormungand's jaw dropped, "How did you know?"

She smiled, "I caught a glimpse of it when you fell. Besides, I've known your father far too long to not know his methods, which he has so thoughtfully passed onto you. Now, which will it be?"

"Alright. Swear you won't tell Fandral or anyone else of this," he said, mock seriousness on his face.

She raised her hands in defeat with a solemn expression, "Not a word."

They both grinned before he ran off into the palace. Shaking her head, she wondered how Loki would handle the boy when he came of age. She continued on her way through the courtyard, leaping into the air as the cloak worked its magic. Transforming into a falcon, the feathered cloak intertwined with magic to cause her flight to accelerate.

The myriad of gold, silver, bronze, blue, and green fell away as she took to the skies. As she left the shining city of the Realm Eternal behind, the many constellations and planets became her companions. Another aspect of the cloak was that it allowed one to breath in areas of little to no oxygen. But she did not linger on such as soon she passed over Alfheim.

Thoughts of Eira and Ysmay filled her head as she wondered how they were. She felt slightly guilty at the fact that she hadn't seen them since she had run out on them, but it couldn't be helped. Perhaps she would stop for a visit on the return journey.

The stars surrounded her once more until she willed herself to go faster, causing the worlds and space to meld together. Svartalfheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Niflheim, Muspelheim, and the stars in between seemed to blur together in an array of light and color. Her destination was past the topmost roots of the Yggdrasil, and so she had to leave the worlds behind to reach the Norns at the Well of Urd.

Little was known of the Norns, but Freyja knew the well was named after the youngest Norn. The well was used to water the roots of the Yggdrasil, but she truly knew nothing else of them. Verdandi, Skuld and Urd were mysteries to her, but she was willing to toss aside her unfamiliarity for the answers she sought. As she finally reached a cloud-enveloped planet, she slowed her descent.

When she broke through the storm clouds, she was forced to veer upwards to keep from crashing into the cliffs that touched the skies. The Norns lived in a cave within the cliff-side, she knew, and only came out to water the Yggdrasil or deliver a prophecy. She flew over the raging sea, searching for an entrance. Finding none, she flew off onto a boulder which stood above the crashing waves. Transforming back into her Asgardian form, she landed on the slick rock.

As the chilled wind whipped across her face, she wondered why the place seemed vaguely familiar. Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts, she solidified the water to form an ice bridge which spanned the distance between the boulder and the cliffs. She walked across the bridge slowly, careful not to slip, before stopping five feet from the walls of stone which towered above her. Searching the rock, she noticed a barely visible petroglyph in the stone before her.

It showed three women who looked slightly older than herself, each one held a bucket of water as they walked from a well to a large tree. Taking the knife from her belt, she sliced a shallow cut into her palm and pressed it against the stone.

"As daughter of Njord and Princess of Vanaheim, second blood-heir to the throne, I request an audience with the Norns," she muttered in the language of her people.

Her blood seeped across the carving, outlining the images in red. When the crimson disappeared completely, the stone crumbled away to reveal the mouth of a cave. She healed her hand as she tucked the knife away. The narrow tunnel was lit by candles placed sporadically throughout the damp stone walls. The air of the inevitable that seemed to linger on the place caused Freyja to feel anxious. The entire place seemed to radiate of untimely demise and crushing loss.

As she walked down the pathway, she felt as if she was slowly asphyxiating. It was impossible for her to drown, being the daughter of the god of the sea, but she had a feeling that the sensations were similar. A cold breeze suddenly whipped through the tunnel, causing her to shiver while it snuffed out the lights. She raised her hand, prepared to light her own way, when a voice stopped her.

"Freyja of Vanaheim, child of prophecy," the voice before her said. "Welcome to our humble abode."

"I presume you are one of the Norns," she answered, wondering whether she should conjure a fire to see.

"Yes, I am Verdandi."

"I thought you were the one Norn who never left her post?"

"Your question requires the knowledge I hold. And so, I must speak with you alone."

"Am I not permitted to actually see you?"

"None have laid eye on us since the All-Father's birth. Yet, you are different, destined for something more."

The candles flicked to life, and Freyja found herself staring at herself. Verdandi was an exact replica of her, albeit with blonde curls instead of red and paler blue eyes. Verdandi tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrows.

"Whatever is the matter, Princess?"

"You resemble me, except you seem to be Asgardian…"

"Each person who looks upon me sees who they wish to be. What does your vision speak of yourself?"

Freyja knew immediately what it said about her. It spoke of her wish to be able to give herself to Loki in every way, something she could not do completely as she was. Had she been Asgardian, she would be able to marry Loki, to start a family of her own. She wasn't sure if it was a curse or a blessing to see the preferable version of herself. As she thought about it, Verdandi's golden locks slowly bled to crimson and her eyes brightened.

"It seems you truly do not want that," Verdandi noted. "What do you truly want?"

"At present, I simply want answers."

"You are aware of the price, are you not?"

"I am. Name whatever price pleases you."

The Norn thought of that for a minute, "For the question you wish to ask, the price will be your happiness."

"You wish to steal the happiness from my future?"

"After a time of great darkness, you will reach a moment of respite. I must ask of you a ray of happiness during this respite."

"Am I not to know what this happiness is?"

"I must choose that when the time comes."

Freyja sighed, wondering whether her question was worth such a vague price.

"The only question you must answer now is: are you willing to sacrifice your own happiness for the good of the majority?"

"I must do this in any case, if Renascentia is to be believed."

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

She nodded.

"Very well," the Norn said, walking around Freyja. "State your question."

"Before his death, Merek Ulricson informed me the Titan Thanos was formulated a plan. I wish to know what this plan is."

"Mass execution," Verdandi answered, placing her hands on either side of Freyja's head.

As the Norn's fingers reached her temples, Freyja gasped in surprise. Reality seemed to fall away, causing her to fall with it. When she hit solid ground once more, she realized she was in Vanaheim. But it was not the same.

The sound of swords clashing filled the air, screams of horror and agony alike split the sounds of metal on metal. The air crackled dangerously with the strength of so many incantations. Vanir in full battle armor fought poorly against what seemed to be shadows in armor. With centuries of being pacifists, her people fell quickly against the cloaked enemies. Turning around to take in the sights, Freyja gaped in horror.

She jumped to the side as one of the shadow creatures raced past on a horse, slaying a Vanir from behind. Freyja ran through the crowds, searching for a familiar face in the sea of people. Running towards the ivory castle, she saw men, women and children alike murdered at the hands of the strange foes.

"Thanos wishes to both send the Realms a message and deal you a blow for humiliating him," Verdandi's voice rang through the cacophony of swords and screams, echoing from all corners. "By bringing Vanaheim to its knees, he will accomplish both of his goals. "

Shaking her head in desperation, she raced for the castle with the knowledge that her father and Thanos would be there. The granite doors were broken open, allowing her to run through. She stopped when she saw Hakon broken and bloody on the floor, silver eyes staring up lifelessly. Fear spiking through her, she continued towards the throne room.

The thick stone doors of the throne room had been thrown off their hinges completely. Inside, Freyja saw her father wielding _Ariolo_, the royal scepter topped with a sapphire mined from the heart of Vanaheim, against several of the shadows and Thanos himself. The Titan wielded a sword similar to those used by the Vikings of Midgard, but the blade was wider and gleamed wickedly in the Thanos's black aura.

"Father!"

Freyja turned to see Freyr, dressing in silver chainmail and armor, charging some of the beasts. He raised his double broadswords, decapitating one of the shadows. She was relieved to see that his time in Asgard had paid off, allowing him greater skill in battle. He battled three of the shadows, twirling and lunging in what resembled a deadly dance.

"Freyr!" their father called. "Do not worry for me! Leave now!"

"I will not abandon you," he yelled back, silver liquid splattering across his skin as he cut a shadow in half.

"I order you to leave imm-"

Freyja felt as if she couldn't breathe as her father's words were cut off while Thanos ran him through with his sword. The Titan pulled his sword free, causing her father to fall to the floor.

"Pathetic!" he growled as Njord struggled to get back up. "You were too weak to kill me while you had the chance, exiling me instead. Now I will destroy everything you possess."

Freyr turned just in time to see Thanos brought the heel of his boot down on Njord's head, causing a sickening crunch to echo through the room.

"No!"

Both Freyja and her brother screamed the word as their father crashed to the floor. She fell to her knees as her brother, face contorted in rage, quickly slayed the remaining shadow and charged Thanos. The giant turned as Freyr sliced a gaping hole through his cheek, revealing the inside of his mouth. Instead of yelling in anger, Thanos laughed as he defended himself from the Prince's attacks.

"This is more like it!" he exclaimed. "You have much more fire in you, just like your sister. I will enjoy showing you the treatment I extended to the dear princess. You should have heard her scream."

Freyr snarled in reply, spinning to kick him in the chest.

"Mostly, they were simply wordless screams. But, on occasion, she would call out names. Only two, though, which surprises me. She would scream for Prince Loki of Asgard, but when she was extremely desperate, it was you she cried out for. A shame you never answered her pleas."

"Enough!" her brother yelled, rending the Titan's armor apart with a single blow. "You will pay for your sins, but I will not be as lenient as my father. This time, you will pay with your own blood!"

Slicing across Thanos's wrist, the Titan dropped his blade. Instead of giving up, he grabbed the swords with his bare hands. Blood dripped from his hands as the two fought for hold of the blades. With a single tug, he sent Freyr flying towards the wall. He slid to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Freyr!" she screamed, finally compelled to move.

She ran towards her brother as Thanos flipped the swords to grasp the handles, walking towards them deliberately slow. As she reached for Freyr, her hands passed straight through him. She looked up at Thanos, remembering this was an illusion. The Titan placed the tip of the right sword under Freyr's chin, forcing the prince to meet the Muse-blue eyes.

"Now," he said, cut in his cheek giving his grin a morbid look. "Shall I kill you, or shall I see what you know?"

"No!" Freyja screamed in defiance, determined to not to let the illusion become reality.

"Your whims mean naught, Princess," Verdandi's disembodied voice said. "This will become reality, whether you wish it or not."

"You are a Norn! You are the one who chooses what will be! You can still change this!" Freyja yelled back.

"It will be."

"When? You must tell me when this will be!"

She screamed as she fell into the blackness once more, plunging through the depths until she hit cold, damp stone. Looking up in surprise, she realized she was outside the cave again, the entrance sealed by the petroglyph.

"No," she muttered. "No! That cannot be all! You must tell me when!"

She beat her fists against the stone, desperate to gain entrance. The rough stone scraped her palms raw, blood seeping slowly down her arms. She sunk to her knees, gazing at the stone in uncomprehending fear. Knowing her answer, she leapt to her feet and launched herself into the gray skies as she transformed into a falcon. She had to return, had to warn them. She didn't want to think what would happen if she didn't.


	19. Chapter 18: Sorrowful Joy

_**And this is what happens when I have nothing to do during Study Hall...**_

_**So, this one's more of an angst-filled chapter (I wonder if I should just make that one of the genres...) but it was oddly easy for me to write. For this one, I actually listened to some movie scores instead of actual songs. I suggest John Murphy's "Surface of the Sun", which I consider to be the theme for this story as it fits the plot.**_

_**On a rather unrelated note (for those who watched the teaser for Thor: The Dark World), did anyone notice the connection between Loki's lines in the Avengers and the teaser? In Avengers, he told Fury "How desperate are you? To call on such lost creatures to defend you?" and yet in the teaser he tells Thor, "You must be truly desperate to come to me for help". Anyone get the feeling that he's referring to himself as a lost creature? Personally, I think the difference in vocabulary points to the idea that he believes himself the most lost. But, then again, that could just be me reading too far into the lines...**_

_**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**_

* * *

_"I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."_

_ -George R.R. Martin_

* * *

Freyja crashed into the crystal door which led from the balcony to her chambers, far too distracted to manage a proper landing. As she hit the stone floor, she transformed back into her Asgardian form. Loki, who had been pacing within her rooms, jumped at the sound and quickly threw open the doors as she stood up.

"Where have you been?" he asked in exasperation, looking her over for bruises. "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"Forgive me for that but I must-"

"I wake up to find a note in your place, a note which didn't include your whereabouts or when you would return, and then when I go to ask Freyr if he's seen you and I find him rushing back from the landing docks, muttering about something about shadows and looking as if Ragnarok was upon us. If that's not enough, I've had to put up with Fandral's accusations of me stealing his damn hand mirror, as if I'd do something so petty, and the Vanir of the city are in a rush to return to Vanaheim for only Heimdall knows what-"

"The hand mirror was – wait, did you say shadows?"

"Yes, though I hardly see what that has to do with anything," he answered noncommittally.

"I'm too late," she breathed, pushing past Loki to run out the door.

"Too late for what?" he called after her, but she was already in the hall.

She could hear him chasing after her as the ran down the hall towards Freyr's room, but she didn't slow down.

"Freyja, what is going on?"

"I went to the Norns this morning," she answered, taking the stairs two at a time.

"You what? You know the Norns cost more than they are worth!"

"When Merek…the night Merek died, he mentioned a plan his master was concocting. I knew it was more than a gamble to gain my attention, so I went to the Norns for answers."

"What did they ask of you?"

"I was only permitted to see Verdandi," she answered, running down another corridor while mentally cursing how far away Freyr's chambers were. "It does not matter what she asked of me. It was well worth it."

"What was your answer?"

"Vanaheim is under attack by an enemy unknown to you. I watched my father die, and Freyr's defeat. I will not allow that to happen."

Freyja stopped at Freyr's door, knocking shakily against the wood. When there was no answer, she opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

"Freyr?" she called, searching the abandoned room.

It looked as if Freyr had thrown everything to the floor in search of something, but she couldn't guess what. His desk was the only thing that was relatively clean.

"Just what do you plan to do about it?"

"Hold that thought," she said, picking up an unfolded letter stained with blood.

It was in her father's handwriting, but written in the language of the Æsir. She wondered just whose blood covered the pale parchment as she read.

_All-Father,_

_ I have little time to write this so I must skip the pleasantries. Vanaheim is at war, though you need not worry yourself with it. This battle will stay on our lands. However, I must ask a request of you._

_ All Vanir, with the exception of those not of age or expecting mothers, must return to Vanaheim immediately. It is of the utmost importance._

_ I warn you now, Odin. Do not engage yourself in this battle. For the good of your people, you must dismiss the notion that aiding us would be noble. If you come to our Realm, you will only bring destruction upon Asgard. Heed my warnings, there is little time left._

_ Njord of Noatun_

_ King of Vanaheim_

Looking down at the desk for more, she tossed rolls of parchment and several bottles of ink out of her way. Searching through the remaining papers, Loki kneeled down to pick up one of the letters.

"Freyja," he said, holding it up. "Is this what you are looking for?"

"Yes," she said, taking the letter from it and opening it.

This one was undoubtedly written by her brother, in the language of their people. Even more worried at the fact that Freyr had written her a letter, she scanned the lines quickly.

_Freyja,_

_ By the time you read this, I will be long gone. My only regret is that I cannot be there to say this myself. This morning, a ship from our Realm crashed into the landing docks. The man inside was badly wounded and died after he was able to give me a letter from Father. We have all been called back to Vanaheim to fight our enemy, whose name you will remember from the legends of the Muse. He brought an army with him, and it will take all of us to hold him off._

_ I beg of you, sister, do not follow me into battle. I fear that the odds are not in our favor and do not wish to watch you die. A few of our people remain in Asgard. Stay with them. I know you will want nothing more than to chase after me and help in all ways you can, but I cannot lose you. Despite Father, you are the only true family I have. Do not force me to watch my own sister's death. Halfling or not, I will always think of you as my twin._

_ May the Wise One bring you happiness and peace in this life._

_ I love you._

_ Freyr_

Freyja stared at the parchment as if it might burst into flames at any moment. It seemed slightly out of character for her brother to write such a morbid note, but she wasn't going to just sit idly in Asgard while Vanaheim was being assaulted.

"Love?" Loki asked. "What did it say?"

"I must go to the All-Father," she answered, walking out the door once again.

"Wait!"

"You must keep up, Loki, for I have no time to spare," she replied.

"What exactly do you plan to say to him?"

"I plan to request he send warriors to Vanaheim immediately," she answered.

"Vanaheim has not seen outsiders since the war, and that was centuries ago. What causes you to think Father will violate your laws?"

"Because there is no other way."

"Freyja…"

She turned on Loki, causing him to skid to a halt to keep from colliding with her.

"I saw what will happen without the aid of Asgard, Loki. If we fight on our own, there will be no Vanaheim."

She turned once more, throwing the gilded doors to the throne room open. Odin looked up from an advisor when she did so, a look of surprise clear on his face.

"Princess Freyja," he greeted. "I was under the impression you traveled with the rest of your people on the Bifrost."

"I was not present at the time of the distress signal."

"Distress signal?"

She walked up to the throne, handed him the letter from her father, and stepped back.

"Vanaheim is under attack by an age-old enemy of ours, one who commands a powerful army," she paused he read the letter. "All-Father, Asgard and Vanaheim have been sister realms since the end of our war. When Asgard has seen times of peril, Vanaheim has always given its aid. We battle an enemy we cannot hope to defeat alone. I respectfully request the strength of your soldiers in our time of need."

Odin glanced at the letter once more, "I am sorry, Freyja. There is nothing I can do."

Freyja stared at him for a second before regaining her composure, "You have well-seasoned warriors that would be more than willing to grant us their aid. In what way is there nothing you can do?"

"In order to send warriors to Vanaheim, I would need your father's consent. He has informed me not to involve Asgard in this war, and his insight is the most reliable in the Nine Realms. Furthermore, sending warriors into battle in unknown territory against a foe we know nothing about would be unwise. Vanaheim is fully capable of defending itself."

"We are not warriors!" she exclaimed out of desperation. "We may have once been strategist and skilled in battle but those traits have been lost. My people will be slaughtered against our enemy! Would you condemn us, your life-long allies, to such a fate?"

"There is nothing I can do. I am sorry for your loss."

"Sorry for my loss?" she demanded, causing all three in the room to stare. "With all due respect, All-Father, what king watches idly while an entire civilization falls into oblivion?"

"I will not allow you to lecture me on the duties of a king!" he snapped.

"Freyja," Loki whispered, putting a hand on her arm. "You will not gain anything from arguing with my father."

She jerked away from him, determined in her cause, "You forget, Odin, that you are no king of mine."

"You would disrespect the king you wish to ask favors of?"

"You lost my respect the moment you declined," she answered venomously. "You have lost Asgard the respect of Vanaheim. I hope, for your sake, Asgard will not require our aid in the future."

Odin's grip on Gungnir tightened as he stood up, "You threaten us?"

"It is not a threat, but a promise of our indifference."

"Your grief does not permit you to speak in such a manner."

"I will hold my tongue when you feel this grief as your own," she yelled in the mother tongue.

Loki, shocked at what he knew she was about to do, wrapped his arms around her as he pulled her from the room.

"You will feel this grief as your own!" she screamed, attempting to pull away from Loki's grasp. "When you think all is well, you will be betrayed by one closest to you! Your pride will turn to shame and you will have none to blame but yourself! This is the fate that lies before you, Odin! Do not think otherwise!"

Loki slammed the doors shut with a quick incantation, never letting Freyja go. She kicked and squirmed in his arms, screaming and cursing in every language she knew as he dragged her back to her room.

"TRAITOR!" she yelled, though Loki wasn't certain whether it was directed at Odin or himself.

"Freyja, love, calm yourself."

"Let me go!"

"Will you do anything reckless if I let go?"

He grimaced as she sent waves of energy rushing through him, each one setting his nerves on fire. She struggled harder against him but went limp as he closed the door of her chambers.

"I ask again: will you do anything reckless if I let go?"

"No," she answered, voice devoid of all emotion.

He let her go and she sunk to the floor, eyes full of sorrow. He kneeled down before her, taking her face in his hands.

"I am truly sorry," he whispered, embracing her gently. "I am sorry there is nothing we can do."

She suddenly pushed him away slightly, eyes alight with an idea, "Yes, there is."

She stood up, rushing around the room to a few belongings. She hooked Brisingamen around her neck, stuffed various gemstones into her pockets, and began hiding several daggers and throwing knives on her person.

"Love? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to Vanaheim, Odin be damned."

"You cannot go to Vanaheim!" he exclaimed, tripping over his own feet to get to her. "Vanaheim will not survive, you said as much yourself."

"I cannot sit here, Loki, while my people die."

He grabbed her wrist as she went to walk out, "But if you leave, you will die, as well."

She looked him squarely in the eye, blue to green, "Then I will greet death as I would an old friend."

His hand fell from hers and she turned around to escape the pain of his gaze. Head held high, she began her way out of the castle and to the launch bay. Loki's soft footsteps were present behind her the entire time and she could feel his sadness rolling off of him in waves, her wishes to stay with Loki and her longing to join her family were tearing her apart. But she steeled herself and continued on her way.

"How do you plan to get to Vanaheim?" he asked as they walked out of the palace.

"Heimdall will not open the Bifrost for me, so I will have to fly there in one of our ships to Vanaheim."

They were silent the rest of the way, but Freyja could feel Loki's pain turn to determination as they reached the platinum dome which served as the landing docks and launch bay for the Vanir and others who wished to sail rather than use the Bifrost. As she strode up to one of the jets, Loki stopped.

"There are no ships here to seat two," he pointed out.

"I am aware," she answered, opening the glass windshield of one.

"I suppose I could simply follow you, though I-"

"Loki, I cannot allow you to follow me," she said softly, closing her eyes.

"You intend to leave me here while you fly to your own death?"

She winced at each word, "No. I intend to sacrifice myself while allowing you to continue living."

He turned her around so that she was looking at him, his eyes glassy, "I have no intentions of allowing you to leave on your own."

She sighed, "You cannot disobey your father's orders. I beg of you, stay here, live a full, happy life, watch your children grow into adulthood, help Thor when his arrogance gets the better of him. Live the life I cannot have."

"You can have this life," he whispered, voice pleading. "Stay here with me. We could be a family, we could have everything in the world."

"You already are my family, along with Jormungand, Fenrir, Hel, Thor, Frigga, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. Nothing will ever change that."

"Please," he breathed.

"And if the roles were reversed? If it was Thor and your family who were facing death? Would you not leave?"

He looked away, but she brought his face back to hers.

"If I was given the choice to go back and change what I've done, I would do it all again. Given the choice and loving and losing you to never knowing this, I would choose the former. You gave me everything I could have wanted, and I leave with only two regrets."

"Name them," he said hesitantly.

"I regret having to leave you in such pain, and not being able to give you all you deserved."

"What have you not given me?"

"I cannot be with you, I never could. And I'm sorry that I led you down this path when I knew the outcome. Forgive me for my selfishness."

"There is nothing to forgive," he breathed, closing the distance to kiss her one last time.

She pulled herself up onto the wing of the jet, "Promise me you will look after Thor in my stead. He may be your elder, but he will need you to help him."

"I will."

She nodded, "Then may the Wise One bring you prosperity and happiness in this life."

"And may He lend you the strength and wisdom you will need," he said back.

"Loki?"

"Yes?"

She looked at the almost hopeful expression on his face, feeling guilt that her question was not one that would bring him any happiness.

"Tell me this before I depart: why did you work so tirelessly to learn and understand our practices?"

He gave a sad laugh, a ghost of a smile across his lips, "I wanted to understand the culture of the people I seem to belong with. You know where I stand on Asgard's customs. I have always felt more comfortable with your people than mine."

She leaned down to kiss him once more, attempting to say how she felt without words. Her fingers laced behind his neck, she committed to detail every aspect of him. The silken texture of his hair, the soft curve of his thin cheekbones, the shape of his jawline, the way his thin lips moved against hers, the scent of cinnamon and mint on his skin and lastly, as she pulled away, the emerald green eyes that shone brightly with every emotion he felt. She hadn't even realized she had begun to cry until he brought his hand to her face and wiped away a tear with a soft brush of his thumb.

"Goodbye, Loki," she said, fingers trailing across his skin as she pulled away.

She sat down in the seat within the jet, turning it on with the flick of a switch. Just as she made to close the windshield, Loki hopped onto the wing.

"Here," he said, taking her hand to drop something small onto her palm. "Take this with you, for good luck."

She looked down at the ring in her hand. It was a ring composed of completely flawless emerald, cut and polished so that the surface reflected rays of light at every angle. She recognized it immediately. It symbolized his birthright, his identity. Thor had one as well, a ruby, but he never wore it. She looked up at his still glassy eyes, his expression somber.

"I cannot accept this, Loki," she protested. "This ring is sacred to you."

"That is why I want you to keep it. The two of the most important things in the world to me, my identity and you. You already hold my heart, will keep my soul, as well?"

She looked from Loki, to the ring, and back again. With a shaky nod, she slipped the ring onto her left ring finger. It was the one finger that was meant for a wedding ring, but she would have no other take its place. He took her hand and kissed it as gently as he had the moment she returned to Asgard.

"Farewell, love."

He leapt off the wing with the end of his words, backing up to watch the windshield slide back into place. Turning to face him one last time, she placed the palm of her left hand against the crystal. He gave a sad smile, but she could see the single tear running down his cheek.

"_I love you_," she whispered into his mind, using the language of her people. "_No matter what my actions say, never doubt that I will always love you_."

"_And I you_," he replied in the same manner. "_Wait for me on the other side_."

"_Do not join me soon_. _Promise me you will live your life as it would be._"

"_I promise._"

She took her hand away from the crystal as he backed away further. Even as she turned her head forward, the ship beginning to rise off the ground, she could feel his green eyes on her. For his and her own sake, she transformed her face into a mask of serenity. She knew it wounded him to not follow her, but it was for his own safety. As she switched the light drive, causing the ship to launch out of the docks at the speed of a lightning bolt, she allowed the mask to fall away.

Asgard disappeared behind her, a beacon of the most happiness and freedom she had experienced in her life. The stars shot past her, forming an array of light reminiscent of the Bifrost. But she saw none of it. All she saw was green. Two green eyes that she was certain to never see again.

"Thank you," she whispered to no one. "Thank you for everything."

And with that, she set her course to Vanaheim. Closing her eyes, she saw Loki's face. Despite her departure, she allowed a smile to cross her face as she thought of what she had done. Loki's arms around her at Animi's funeral, their laughter after their escapade with Thrim, their own personal celebrations after the Night of the Wolf, he and his children playing and laughing with her, and the smile that mirrored her own with just the slightest hint of mischief.

She had known she would die, and now, she knew she would die happy with her life. With one last glance at Loki's ring, she looked ahead, certain of the fate that awaited her.

She was wrong.

* * *

_**PS: It's not over just yet...**_


	20. Chapter 19: Nevermore

**_Hi everyone! I don't know why I'm posting so quickly. These chapters are just coming to me quicker. That and I think my subconscious wants to stop skipping around the pleasantries and get to the real action (i.e. the last book), so I'm writing a lot faster. So, this is the second to last chapter of HeartTorn (although I will include a small excerpt to keep you going). Another angst-riddled chapter but I promise the next chapter will have a little action in it. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless._**

**_Song of the Chapter: My Immortal (Band Version) ~ Evanescence_**

* * *

_"If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never meant to be."_

_ -Anonymous_

* * *

Agony.

It ripped through him like a child would rip the petals off a flower. Every word, whisper, sigh and thought burned Loki as if he had thrown himself into a fire. There were no words to describe it, no way to comprehend the sensation that was beyond pain. If someone had torn his heart from his chest, he imagined the pain would be paled in comparison to what he felt as he watched Freyja's ship disappear.

He had felt something similar when Angrboda had died, but this was different. It was a different kind of pain. It was different as Angrboda had not meant to die, Freyja was willingly doing so. What doubled the torture was the fact that he understood. He had refused to force her to choose between her family and him, as it would have been cruel. So he had allowed her to leave, knowing it would bring her less pain if he stayed silent.

Her emotions had done nothing to soothe him, either. He had felt how conflicted she was on the topic, having to choose between Asgard and Vanaheim. It was why he allowed her to believe there was no choice. Her choice to die in Vanaheim meant nothing in reference to him, as he knew she would have gladly died for him had the situation been reversed. But he wondered, idly as the idea seemed to numb the pain a fraction, what it was like to have your heart torn between two things you treasure dearly.

Loki wasn't sure how long he stood in the launch bay, staring out into the stars that had seemingly swallowed Freyja whole. He simply stood, still as a statue, and allowed the waves of grief to wash over him as water would on the shore. What was he to do without her?

It was then that Loki's ever calculating mind kicked into gear, sending him rushing out of the launch bay with a slightly crazed look in his eyes as he summoned his armor through magic. He ran the short distance to the palace, choosing to go through the training field instead of the courtyard. As he raced by the walls of weapons, he grabbed a golden double-headed bardiche that was almost as long as he was tall. The others had always been found of hammers, maces, axes, and swords, but Loki found more appeal in brandistocks, pole-arms and throwing knives.

Past the training field lay the stables, the home of every steed used by the royal family and more. Krellir, Freyja's steed from Vanaheim, whinnied as he spotted Loki. He remembered the day he raced Freyja on horseback, the day had ended with him being surprised when Krellir shot through the woods as if running from an army. Shaking the memory from his mind, he brought our Stórmerk, his personal stallion with an unpredictable attitude, and saddled him. Mounting the horse, he urged it to run out of the stables and towards the Bifrost.

People in the streets leapt out of the way as their armor-clad prince rode across the cobblestones with a look of fiery determination in his eyes. When the god of mischief was racing through the city as if to travel to the gates of Hel, they knew something was very wrong. Loki supposed they already knew something was amiss when the Vanir left the realm, but his actions were doing nothing but frightening them more. It was a warning to the Realms when the Vanir, possibly the most adept race, were afraid. And all seemed to be heeding it.

As Stórmerk practically flew down the crystalline surface of the Bifrost, Loki wondered how he would persuade Heimdall to open the Bifrost to Vanaheim. He supposed, as prince, the gatekeeper would be forced to follow his orders. Although Freyja had warned him not follow her, he would not leave her to fight on her own. If he died in Vanaheim, so be it.

When he reached the center of the bridge, he urged Stórmerk to go faster. Then came the explosion.

It was a roar-like tumult which echoed through the skies. Loki instinctively shielded his face with his arms, surprised by the ferocity of the noise. As he looked up, he saw the explosion of color and light engulfing the stars around it. The paroxysm of light rushed towards Asgard with frightening speed. Stórmerk reared in fright, throwing Loki off his back, and ran back to the city. His golden armor hit the rainbow bridge with an ear-splitting screech, causing him to wince at the impact.

As he sat up, he recognized the strong tell-tale crackle of magic in the air and the faint scent of different auric signatures. There was still a cloud of multi-colored smoke in the distance, but it began to disperse as he stared at it in shock. Loki knew exactly what he had witnessed. The explosion had been the product of several conflicting spells cast at once. The levels of energy in the air had been too much to remain stable. It had been a phenomenon experienced occasionally during Freyja's classes, though never on such a scale.

The thought of Freyja caused his blood to run cold, as he knew she would have either already arrived in Vanaheim or was about to when the explosion occurred. He went to stand, but his legs could not support him at the time and he fell to his knees. There was no pain, unlike when he had watched Freyja leave, only a numb sensation as if he had been hollowed out and left empty. He hung his head in defeat, knowing she was lost to him.

"Brother!"

Loki didn't look up when Thor's voice echoed across the bridge. His brother's voice seemed muffled, as if there was a wall between them. He heard the sound of Thor's feet hitting the crystal as he dismounted.

"Loki, what was that? What is going on?" he demanded. "Father's in a mood for some reason he will not tell me and all of Asgard is in a state of panic due to the explosion. There are rumors going about that the majority of the Vanir left, frightened by some enemy attacking their home. I searched for Freyja to ask her about this mess, yet she is nowhere to be found!"

"Vanaheim was under attack," he answered, voice empty.

"No one knows the whereabouts of Vanaheim. Besides, Vanaheim poses no threat. Who in their right mind would launch an attack on the Vanir?"

Loki didn't answer, for he didn't know what it was. He simply stared at the Bifrost, one of the few things that remained of a once great race.

"Brother," Thor put his hand on Loki's shoulder. "Why are you not with Freyja? Surely she is grieving…"

He trailed off as Loki looked up at him, a shattered look in his green eyes. Thor swallowed nervously, not used to seeing his usually composed younger brother so broken.

"She left for Vanaheim," it wasn't a question.

"She left to die for her family."

Thor glanced at the dissipating light in the distance, "The rumors are true, then. The Vanir have fallen?"

He nodded stiffly, "Vanaheim is no more."

"What could possess the strength to destroy our greatest allies?"

"Freyja knew of this."

Thor's head snapped towards Loki, "What do you mean?"

"Whoever attacked Vanaheim was working with Merek. He happened to let it slip to Freyja that Vanaheim was in danger. She was with the Norns this morning to find out why."

"She knew of what would happen and yet she left anyway?"

Loki nodded once more, "She preferred to die for her family than to live knowing she had done nothing."

"Let us return. There is no use in standing here."

Loki allowed Thor to drag him back to the palace, still feeling oddly numb. It was as if the whole situation was a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from to find Freyja lying beside him. He didn't realize when they passed through the streets, nor when they entered the palace. It was only when he stood alone in the corridor that led to both his and Freyja's rooms that he realized he was no longer on the Bifrost.

Closing his door behind him, Loki suddenly felt the gravity of the situation fall over him. She was gone. Freyja, the one person who had ever understood him completely, who shared a mental bond with him since the day she gave him the ability to wield magic, who treated both him and his children as if they were the most valuable treasures in the Realms, was gone. As if the very thought of his children had reached them, Jormungand glanced inside the room.

"Father, may I come in?"

Loki nodded and the boy walked in.

"Have you seen Freyja?"

Loki felt a wave of sorrow at her name, but said nothing.

"I need her for proof. You see, I stole Fandral's hand mirror this morning as a joke, but he believes Fenrir stole it. He won't believe me when I tell him it was I, and Freyja was the only person to see me. Fandral will believe her if she tells him."

"Jormungand, there's something I need to tell you…"

He cocked his head to the side in confusion, "You look ill, Father. Are you alright?"

"It is about Freyja."

"Is she ill? Is that why you look unwell?"

"Freyja left," he answered quietly.

The boy stared back at him in disbelief before smiling, "Well, all's well, then. When will she return?"

"She's not coming back, Jormungand."

"What do you mean? She would not just leave us. Did you say something offensive? Perhaps you should apologize. Then you could ask for her hand and we can be a real family."

"There is nothing I can say, she is dead!" he yelled, the idea of marrying her causing him to snap.

He looked at his son's face and immediately felt guilt for his loss of control.

"Forgive me," he whispered. "I did not intend to shout."

He reached out for his son, but Jormungand backed away.

"What do you mean she's dead?"

"She, along with most of the Vanir, has died."

The boy shook his head desperately, eyes gleaming with tears, "No. She wouldn't leave us. She promised me she wouldn't leave us."

"Jormungand…"

"No. She promised. She said she'd be here for our birthday. And for when we must pick out or royal colors. And when we gain our titles. She said she'd be there."

"Jorm," he said softly, using his old nickname.

He shook his head, "She promised."

With that, he ran out the door, most probably to his brother. Loki, left alone once more, collapsed into one of the black velvet chairs next to the bookshelves. Closing his eyes, he attempted to find some solace in Freyja's absence.

* * *

Loki lay awake in the still of the night, unable to close his eyes without seeing Freyja's face. It had been two weeks since the destruction of Vanaheim…or had it been three? He had lost track of all time since the fall. He had been unwell, also. What little food he could eat would only cause him to be sick later. Sleep seemed to be impossible for him. He could tell his family was worried for him, but he could not force himself to care.

Despite the frenzy Asgard was driven into the first couple days after the loss of Vanaheim, things began to calm down when it seemed nothing would attack Asgard. The only people who seemed to be truly affected were himself and the few Vanir who remained. Children without fathers, mothers or both, wives without husbands, they were the people who were left to mourn the death of their race. Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Thor, and Frigga all mourned the loss, of course, but it did not affect them as much.

Everywhere he looked, Loki was reminded of her. Every room, every corridor, held some reminder of their actions. He could hear her laughter within the palace walls, her encouragement in the teaching halls she had once run, her whispered affections at night. It was torturous, so he had locked himself into his room where there were few reminders of her. But it wasn't enough.

A sharp thud caused Loki to jump up from his bed in surprise. Listening for a few minutes, he deemed it a figment of his imagination and laid back down.

**Crash!**

He fell out of the bed at the sound, startled into moving but his sleep-fogged mind could not decide whether to stand or sit up. So it had attempted to do both. Grumbling to himself at the lack of respect for people's rest, Loki exited his chambers to locate the source of the noise and reprimand them for disturbing his rest. If he was willing to be fully honest with himself, he wasn't actually getting any sleep to begin with. But he wouldn't say that to the person responsible.

Much to his surprise, the noise originated from within Freyja's chambers. Until now, he had avoided her rooms as if they carried the plague. With a huff of resignation, he threw open the door and strode in.

"Who dares disturb my slumber with such ungodly noise?"

He stopped short as he looked at the five guards in Freyja's rooms. A few of the shelves were bare, her desk was empty of papers and quills, and windows had been stripped of curtains.

"Forgive us, Prince Loki," one of them said quickly. "We simply intended to-"

"What in Asgard's name are you doing in here?" he snapped.

"The All-Father ordered us to empty this room as it is no longer of use to Princess Freyja," the guard said hesitantly, spotting the anger in Loki's face.

Before he could reply, another guard came out of Freyja's bedchamber. His arms were full of dresses, odd baubles from Vanaheim and, much to Loki's distress, Freyja's favorite bow.

"I'm unsure what we shall do with the Vanaheim trinkets," said the guard. "But the dresses will sell for high prices and this bow…It must have been forged especially for the Princess! Imagine the price it will sell at!"

Loki's jaw clenched in anger at the words of the guard, rage bowling just below his relatively irate demeanor. The bow he held was Freyja's favorite. She had forged the silver herself when she was ten, working tirelessly to fashion a bow which would be both efficient and pleasing to the eye. Loki had aided her, taking over when she was forced to heal her burned fingers or rest for a short while. It was the bow with which she taught Loki archery, the same bow that caused his interest in precision-based weaponry. It was her bow, and they were planning to sell it.

Loki marched straight up to the guard, plucked the bow from his hands, and tossed the dresses onto the empty desk.

"What in the name of the Yggdrasil gives you the right to vandalize Freyja's room in such a manner?" he yelled, glaring at the one guard who, in his opinion, was doing the most harm.

"I – All-Father – orders – empty," he stammered, shrinking away from Loki who, even in his silk pajamas, was suddenly becoming increasingly frightening.

"These are not the All-Father's chambers! And I will not tolerate such disrespect to the fallen! If one of your comrades was slain in battle, would you ransack his house as well?"

"We meant no disrespect, my Prince," one of the others said softly.

"SILENCE!" he yelled, causing the guard to leap back. "You will return everything to its proper place and then you will leave. If I find so much as a tunic wrinkled, I will have your hides for wall decorations. Is that understood?"

The guards nodded, choosing to remain silent after his outburst. They then rushed out of the room, no doubt to find the items they had already disposed of. Noticing a hint of crimson on the floor, Loki kneeled by the desk to find an Eclipse Lily next to the desk. It was a flower native to Vanaheim with scarlet petals and a bright blue stamen. The lilies could last for months after being cut without wilting.

Picking it up, he walked back to his chambers. As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help but take a closer look at the flower. Inhaling the scent, he remembered Freyja's words on them a couple days after he had given her the garden.

_ "I have not seen these in a long time," she had said, picking one up to examine it. "They are very rare, only growing near the summits of our tallest mountains. What I love about Eclipse Lilies is that each one is different."_

_ She had held it up for him to look, tracing one long finger across the golden pattern on the petals, "These markings are unique to each one. They are like snowflakes, no two are alike."_

_ "It has been a long time since I have seen snowflakes," he pointed out. "And even during my time in Jotunheim with Thor and the Three, I honestly did not pay much attention to the snow."_

_ "Perhaps, one day, I will manage to take you to Vanaheim without anyone's notice. We experience all four seasons there."_

He smiled as he remembered the plans they had jokingly made, plans of sneaking him into Vanaheim. They had only been friends at the time, but it was a fond memory. Amidst his thoughts, Loki walked out onto the balcony connected to his chambers. The crisp night air rushed past him as he opened the doors, but the cold didn't bother him.

He sat down on the stone banister, legs dangling off the edge. It had become a habit since he did the same with Freyja before Animi's funeral. Looking down on the sleeping city below, he decided he could no longer continue in such a way. He had reprimanded the guards for disrespecting Freyja's memory, yet what was he doing? She would have never wanted him to drown in his grief.

Life would go on without her, and she would want him to do the same. Looking up at the stars, he remembered the Vanir's belief on death. When a Vanir died, it was said that their soul transformed into a star, as that was what they were said to be created from. 'From fire we came and to fire, we shall depart'. It was the reason they burned their dead. He was never sure if he believed it or not, but it was a comforting idea.

He smiled at the thought of Freyja watching him from above, dancing freely through the heavens in whatever way she pleased. He could almost feel her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her head leaning softly against his. Closing his hand around the flower, he uttered a small incantation. Green tendrils of his aura drifted from his palm when he reopened his hand. The flower had bent itself into the shape of a ship, its hull red and gold while its mast was brilliant blue.

Allowing a generous amount of energy to pour into the boat, he allowed it to float off into the skies.

"Farewell, love," he whispered. "I will rejoin you in time. Until then, enjoy your freedom."

When he retired for the night, he fell into an easy sleep filled with flaming curls, bright blue eyes, and soft laughter. He awoke feeling more peaceful than he had since her departure.

As the centuries passed, Loki obeyed Freyja's last wishes. He watched out for Thor and Asgard when needed and became the greatest sorcerer of Asgard. His children, though saddened by Freyja's death, grew into bright, brave adults who became his greatest pride. When Hel was sent to become Queen of the dead, Loki had protested greatly but ceased his resistance when she accepted it gladly.

When it came time for Thor's coronation, Loki knew he was not ready. He made his mistake, unknowingly falling prey to Odin's curse which Freyja had thoughtlessly created. He learned why Njord did not approve of him and wondered why Freyja had never told him. Desperate to destroy the reasons of his unhappiness, he set the strength of the Bifrost on Jotunheim. And as he let go of Gungnir after his defeat, it was Freyja's face he saw as he closed his eyes.

A year and a half later, he sat in Asgard's only prison. A year and a half of torture, betrayal, death and defeat was what he endured. Then she came to him, changed and yet still the same. The worlds had seen them both to darkness, and together in the darkness, it seemed, they would stay. And so when their tormentor was destroyed at her hands, he awaited the hour she would return to him. He had waited a millennia and a century, and he would wait the remaining hours out until he could hold her in his arms once more.

For the remainder of eternity, until Ragnarok itself tore them apart.


	21. Chapter 20: Forced Choices

**_Yes, I'm back. Don't ask why I've written this so quickly, I just have. Besides, it's one of those teacher work days so I have nothing else to do. It's a good thing I don't write these beforehand otherwise there would be nothing to stop me from posting the whole of the last book right this minute. XD Anyway, this is the last chapter and I thank you all for sticking with me this far. Even those who are silent readers, every time I see the number of reads rise, I feel incredible elation. Thanks again to all of you. Enjoy!_**

**_Song of the Chapter: Frozen ~ Within Temptation_**

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_One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying."_

_ -Joan of Arc_

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The little Midgard tavern was full of men and women of questionable dignity. Laughter and chatter filled the air, along with the sound of steins being slammed onto the tables by drunken hands. In the corner of the tavern, cloaked in shadows, sat a stranger no one would approach. Although she was appealing to every eye that was laid upon her, she gave off a dangerous feel to those around her. When a man stared too long, her striking blue eyes would dart up towards them. The empty eyes caused them to shiver at the otherworldly woman, her gaze full of ice and broken glass.

The red-haired woman seemed to have no business in the vicinity. She was obviously not a harlot, but nor was she a barmaid. An untouched glass sat before her, but she ignored it. She spun a strange coin on the table, occasionally stopping it to reverse its rotation. Though her gaze was directed at the coin, it was not what she was seeing.

She saw a world of crystal, quartz, and metal. There were streets paved with smooth platinum, elegantly curling towers that kissed the brilliant blue skies. She saw rolling hills in an impossible shade of green, rivers and lakes of water so clear, the bottoms were perfectly visible. She saw tall, thin beings with iridescent black hair, silver eyes, and blue-black skin. She saw Vanaheim.

Freyja was unsure of what exactly had happened. One moment, she was within ten miles of Vanaheim and the next, there was a blinding flash of color followed by darkness. She had woken up in her ship, which had been hovering about in space, completely disorientated. The engine, which had overloaded at the explosion of energy, took much coaxing on her behalf to get it to work once more. In the small hope that Vanaheim was unaffected, she headed towards her childhood home.

She wished she hadn't.

Vanaheim had been in ruin. Corpses of her people and her enemies littered the ground. Bodies of children, adults, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters covered almost every inch of the streets. Blood ran across the smooth surface of the roads, staining her riding boots as she walked. The buildings which had once flickered and glowed with the light of civilization were now dark and hollow. There was nothing except death and destruction left.

And so she had set up a make-shift burning for the dead. It was the only respect she could pay them, but she felt it was less than they deserved. With the smoke of her people rising towards the heavens, Freyja left Vanaheim for the last time. Despite finding her father's corpse, she could not find Freyr's. She could only assume Thanos had him and would, no doubt, kill him.

And so she had fled to Midgard, where she knew no one would trouble her. It was in that little tavern that she planned to wait out most of the pain. She would stay there before returning to Asgard. The idea of returning to Asgard hurt, as it would remind her of Vanaheim. But she needed the one person left who could sympathize. She needed the man who would hold her close and take the pain he could. She needed Loki.

In retrospect, what she had found in Loki was strange. The very god of mischief, lies and chaos had become something entirely different. Though he still had his silver-tongue and his mischief had never left, he never seemed chaotic to her. She still wore his ring on her finger, a constant reminder of the wrong she had committed that always felt right. Was there a right kind of wrong? She wondered at the idea.

Freyr would most likely tell her yes. The thought of Freyja caused her to wince. She regretted not telling him of her and Loki's romance, as he would have been thrilled at the prospect. He would never know now, and she wished she had been more open with him. She could never fix that.

On top of her grief, she felt something unusual directed towards Asgard. More importantly, the foreign emotion was directed at Odin. It was strong as passion, but distinctively darker. It ate her alive, causing her to grit her teeth in resistance. She couldn't remember the last time she had meditated, and now she wished she had done so. Come to think of it, she had never found the need to meditate with Loki. He calmed her in every way.

Loki. She wondered if he thought her dead. It would be foolish to believe otherwise, she knew. She wondered what he had told Thor, or Sif and the Three, or his children. She closed her eyes at the thought of Hel, Jormungand and Fenrir. They were practically her own children and they had come to love her as they would a mother. She had told them so many things, promised them so much. And she would keep her promises, she told herself. She would return.

She wondered what would become of her when she returned. She had believed that perhaps Renascentia would be fulfilled when she died in Vanaheim. And yet she was still alive, so what did that mean? What did the fates have in mind for her?

She was certain she would die, that much was clear. The question was when? As she thought over the words of the prophecy, they made less and less sense. Did the "green-eyed serpent" refer to the Nidhogg? She shook her head to herself, knowing the Nidhogg could not rule a kingdom, let alone share one as was foretold. And the All-Father's pride…surely that was Asgard? But she was lost at the last half. It was stated, pure and simple, that she would die. And yet it also mentioned a halfling taking an ivory throne. There must be, logically, two halflings. Right?

With a sigh of defeat, Freyja decided to simply wait and see how her life would play out. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize the barmaid had approached her until the woman spoke in Norse, the language of the area.

"Miss?"

Freyja looked up, softening her gaze slightly, "Yes?"

"The ale you ordered was one of our finest. My father makes it himself and often times, men come here and do not pay their debt. I do not imply that you would cheat us, but it is a new requirement to pay beforehand."

She looked down at the coin in her hand, knowing it was not enough. Checking her pockets, she realized she had left all of her money in her ship which was safely hidden deep in the woods.

"I am afraid I do not have a sufficient amount with me. However, if you allow me to take a small journey out, I can assure you I will return with your payment."

The girl shook her head, "I cannot take the risk that you might not return. Perhaps one of your rings will suffice."

"I will not forfeit my rings, as they have sacred meanings."

"Are you a priestess?"

"No," she answered, knowing the confusion was caused the priestess who followed her, as they wore rings as well.

"Well, I am afraid I cannot allow you to depart."

Sighing, she quickly thought of different ways to assure the mortal of her return. She would not use the fact that she was a goddess, as she did not want the attention. Not to mention the fact that she didn't enjoy gloating.

"If I leave something here with you while I obtain my pay, will you be satisfied?"

"I suppose it depends upon what you leave here."

With a glance out the window, she realized it had begun to snow.

"The winter night is cold. If I leave my coat, I will not be able to journey far from here. Will that suffice?"

Luckily for her, she had left her falcon cloak in the ship and now wore a black velvet coat embroidered with silver around the edges. The mortal girl nodded, and took the coat carefully as Freyja shrugged it off. She had no qualms with leaving the coat there, as it meant little to her. Despite this, she would return with her payment. She had no wants to cheat mortals out of what they deserved.

Walking out the door, she shivered as the harsh winter winds assaulted her. Without the coat, Freyja had nothing to keep the cold from blowing straight through her leather tunic and trousers. Trudging across the hard ground, she made her way towards the forest. She felt the odd sensation that something was amiss, but she shrugged it off.

Walking through the concealment spells she had placed on her ship, she opened the windshield and rummaged through her belongings in search of her coin pouch. She hadn't actually intended to bring it to Vanaheim, but she had found it in the ship anyway. Taking out a few more silvers, she pushed back her grief as she saw Njord's face imprinted on one. She had decided to repress her emotions for the time being, knowing her grief could cloud her judgment.

Walking back, she thought she felt an unnatural static in the air. She knew she must have been imagining things, as there were only a few sorcerers on Midgard and none of them would blatantly flaunt their abilities. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of smoke, wondering what the cooks had burnt that could smell so foul. As she reached the tree line, she heard screams.

Eyes wide, she ran the remainder of the way to the tavern before stopping dead. The entire place was engulfed in black flames. Rushing towards the door, she attempted to open it without burning herself. The door wouldn't budge, and she burnt a hole through it with magic. A few people flooded out in a panicked disarray as Freyja made for the horse in the stables nearby. The horses were whinnying nervously, kicking and rearing at the approaching flames.

As she opened their stalls, they fled in fear, not stopping in their race to escape the fire. Knowing there were still people within the tavern, Freyja raced back to the building. She was three feet away from the door when the place exploded. She cried out in pain and the force and flames threw her backwards. Her head hit a tree as she fell, causing her to see spots.

Sitting up painfully, she realized she had burns on her arms. Ignoring the pain from her body, she stared into the clearing smoke. Within the torrent of ash, just barely visible, was a familiar tall figure. She could hear his cold laughter, feel his fear-inducing aura. Thanos.

Scrambling to her feet, she ran into the woods towards her ship. She frantically hopped in, starting the engine and causing it to rise too fast. If Thanos captured her, she would not be able to stop him from taking what he wanted. As her ship broke through the trees and ascended towards the heavens, Freyja quickly began to work out what to do.

She could not return to Asgard. If she did, she would bring Thanos to her friends and family. He was not aware of how deep her connection with the Æsir ran, she knew, and so he would not travel there so long as she stayed away. She could not endanger the Midgardians, either, as they had no defense against the Titan. That left her with Jotunheim, Niflheim, Muspelheim, the ruins of Svartalfheim, and the more remote areas of Alfheim.

With a pang of guilt, she realized she was uncertain how long Thanos would chase her. This made it impossible to tell when she could return to Asgard. She could not see Loki again, and she could not keep any of her promises.

How much would she have to sacrifice to keep those she loved safe? She could not save her brother or father, but she would not allow harm to come to Asgard. Her only remaining family consisted of Thor, Loki, Sif, the Three, Frigga, and Loki's children. And yet she was forced to stay away from them. Why was she the one to sacrifice her freedom, happiness, and life to protect the Realms?

With a sigh, she gazed out at the stars in the direction of Asgard, unaware that Loki was doing the same.

"Forgive me, Loki. I cannot return to you. I hope you can understand my choices and forgive me when this ends. I will not be home again."

And with that, she began her race against Thanos that would last for a millennia and a century. She stayed away from people whenever she could, not wanting to bring destruction upon the strangers she met. When her resolve wavering, causing the loss of an entire dwarven town, she branded the marks of the lost lives onto her skin to remind herself of why she ran.

As the years passed, the marks slowly made their way across her right shoulder. In time, she found that Thanos did not follow her to Midgard, for reasons she could only guess. And when she was shot out of the sky by the humans, she did not expect to see an old friend, much less her own lover. And when she took Thanos's life in repayment for those he had stolen, she thought Renascentia was upon her once more.

But, once more, she was wrong. Though she knew, deep down, that her blood would demanded in the future, it mattered little to her. It matter little for she was Asgard-bound and would reunite with the remains of her family. She would return to her lover in Asgard, where she would attempt to soothe his wounds, both the ones created in her absence and by her absence. And she would be content with her life once more.

For the remainder of eternity, until Renascentia itself tore her away from him.

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_**And here, as promised, is the teaser/excerpt of HeartFrost, the third and final installment of the Renascentia Trilogy. No, I cannot give any background information without revealing major spoilers. Sorry.**_

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Once Loki had left the room, Freyja took hold of Thor's arm to keep him there. His blue eyes met hers at the contact. He seemed to be perfectly calm, but she knew it was a façade. She could see the anxiety in his eyes, both for what she had done and what they were about to do.

"Might I have a word?"

He glanced at the door, "Should we not-"

"It is of great importance."

He nodded, turning to face her fully as she let go of his arm. Glancing out the door to make sure Loki was too far to overhear, she pulled out the Kris dagger she had kept, the same one Loki asked her about in New York before she left. She placed it in Thor's hands, careful not to let the blade touch his or her skin.

"What is this?" he asked, confused at her actions.

"Thor, the Tesseract is one of the largest sources of negative energy in the Realms. It has been able to corrupt every being that has attempted to harness it. There is a high possibility that I will not be able to control it for long."

"And yet you still went through with this? Why did you not inform us?"

"Loki would have never allowed me to do this if I stated my doubt of my capabilities. There was no other way."

"What does this," he raised the dagger, "have to do with what you are saying?"

She sighed, "If I lose control, there will be nothing to stop me from destroying the Realms myself. I cannot ask Loki to do this, as he would never agree."

"Freyja," he warned, not liking where the conversation was going.

"If I lose control," she wrapped his fingers around the knife, keeping her voice steady. "Drive this through my heart and do not stop until the light leaves my eyes."

She could see the shock on his face, "I will not take your life.

"I'm asking you, as King of Asgard, to make a choice. Will you sacrifice my life, or the lives of your people?"

He was silent, internally conflicted at the two ideas. At the back of his mind, he could hear the Other's taunts at Freyja. _You cannot stop this. This was set into motion before you were brought into these Realms. The only question is, just how far will you go to protect your family?_ Looking into her eyes, which were glowing from the Tesseract, he realized what the answer was.

"Thor, I trust you to make the right decision. You are a good man, and I know you will make a great king."

She let go of his hand and walked to the door before glancing back at him, "If I lose control, tell Loki I am sorry. He will understand eventually."

And with that, she left the room, leaving Thor to stare at the dagger gripped in his hand.


End file.
